


Not Everyone Can Aim

by zemenipearls (kaiipaii)



Series: Zemeni Extended Universe [3]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Grishaverse, King of Scars, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Original Character(s), Parem, Post SOC, Post-Canon, Serious, Worldbuilding, black as hell, jesper centric, jurda, novyi zem, original characters of color, zemeni, zowa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiipaii/pseuds/zemenipearls
Summary: After the events in Ketterdam, Jesper finds himself at a loss. He travels back to Novyi Zem to spend time with his father on the jurda farm. He focuses on healing wounds he didn't know he had, against the backdrop of changing Zemeni politics in response to Ravkan imperialism and Jurda Parem.





	1. Ndiyavuya Ukukwazi

**Author's Note:**

> Borrows heavily from Zulu, Swahili, and Xhosa languages for words and worldbuilding.
> 
> Main Port:  
> Ol'Umoyana, in the Southeast
> 
> Regions of Novyi Zem:  
> North (based on Arabic North Africa)  
> West (based on the Gold Coast, West Africa)  
> Southeast (based on Tanzania, Kenya, Mozambique area)  
> Southern Colonies / Ravkan territory (based on South Africa region)
> 
> Zemeni Classification of Zowa abilities and their shorthand:
> 
> Ngaphakathi (Internal Zowa)  
> \- umzingili intliziyo / zingiyo (heartrender)  
> \- umphulukisi (healer)  
> \- ingqondo idimoni / ingmoni (heartrender specializing in the head / illusion)
> 
> Ukuthonya (External Zowa)  
> \- nabaluki (fabrikator - metals and unliving things)  
> \- imbali umkhandi / bahandi (fabrikator - flowers, wood, living things)  
> \- umoya yomlilo / 'moylilo (squallers)  
> \- inhliziyo yomlilo / inlilo (inferni)  
> \- ukuletha imvula / lethavu (tidemakers)

Jes forgot what it was to truly feel at home, until he was home. In Novyi Zem he was not tall and dark. He was average height, and his father stood out with his ruddy Kaelish face. He kept looking for his mother in every woman that passed him by, even though he knew where she was. Buried under the tree on the farm. 

Jesper knew he had to leave Ketterdam and get sorted. Wylan was home and… well. Things weren't bad. But the Ice Court still hovered in the corners of the Van Eck mansion and reared its memory with ugly teeth when he wasn't ready. Ketterdam was cold and awash in tragedies. Jesper needed to get away and see who he was, when he wasn’t addiction-addled and part of the Dregs. After spending so long defined by his tragedies and shortcomings, now there was something hollow.

His skin greedily drank the sunshine as they wandered the marketplace, grabbing fresh fruit and supplies for his welcome back dinner at the farm. Even the lemon-lime clothes he loved weren't out of the ordinary. No drab blacks like funeral wear. He saw everything. Ladies with elegant turbans in multicolored patterns, vivid shades of dresses. Men in long, loose shirts that matched. All of it glowing on brown skin ranging from tawny to inky midnight. Orange jurda-stained teeth, white ones, breaking up the perfect canvas of their faces.

Jes never felt so ordinary. And it made his heart sing.

The farm was the same, yet so different. Colm Fahey Hilli was an honest, hardworking man, and the jurda flowers were a living testament to his love of Aditi. Brilliant deep orange swathed the countryside, the rightful product of Novyi Zem. The sky was a rich blue with faint clouds, and Jes was sure if he reached up high enough he could brush against the heavens. Just outside of the port and main city, the farm felt like another world. The flowers on one side, and the water crashing against crags on the other side. His Da said the rocky precipice reminded him of the Wandering Isles.

“They're trying to come for it,” Colm said. “Ever since that nonsense in Ketterdam. Everyone wants to buy Novyi Zem's riches. Every month they offer higher and higher prices.” Now Colm glanced at Jesper’s face. “You know why?”

Jesper nodded. Violent pictures of Nina's desperate and haunted face flashed. Jurda parem. “You can't.”

“I won't. Neither will any of our neighbors. We saw what happened to the Southern Colonies.” His face scrunched at the Ravkan name. Colm may have been Kaelish but his wife and son were Zemeni - and he would defend it against interlopers. “And how dangerous it is for others to control the land. I pray they are steadfast.” Colm paused. “I would be fine if you never set foot in Ketterdam again.”

What Jesper didn't say was that Ravka had come with guns and bullets to the colonies. But Zemenis were not as trusting anymore, not of the Kerch, Fjerda, the Shu, and least of all Ravka. And Novyi Zem had bullets of their own.

It felt good to work with his hands again. To dig into the soil that was his birthright, to tend to the flowers that connected him to his mother. The scent filled the air as they checked the crops, harvesting some to turn into chewing jurda, soaps, and hanging some up to dry. They fell into an easy day to day rhythm. Jesper had no idea why it had been difficult before. Young and poisoned by his gift.

Now, he showed off his gift to his father. He didn't think of himself as a Grisha. He was Zowa. And he could feel his mother's smile.

One day they sat eating a simple but hearty meal. Colm was visibly happy having Jesper help, and nearby. Jesper missed Wylan, but Wylan would never truly understand his connection to Novyi Zem just like Jesper could never understand the way he grew up Van Eck. 

“Are you ready?” Colm asked softly.

“Ready for what Da?”

“To tell me what happened in Ketterdam.”

The words poured out. How he dropped out of university from gambling. Fell in with the Dregs. How Kaz found out about his gift and told him to hide it. How he fell in love with the cruel and unkind boy, how he committed crimes to pay off a debt he never could. How he went to the Ice Court and left a part of him there he couldn't get back. About how Wylan was so kind and pure but was being poisoned by the Dregs too, and treated so much better by Kaz. About Matthias, who's name he had been trying not to think of for months.

Jesper and his dad were both crying by the end. Jesper didn't even understand why, it was his reality he had been living for years now. 

“I shouldn't have left you there on your own. And so young for University.” He pulled Jesper into a hug so tight it hurt. “But you were restless and too smart for your own good. Too smart for me.”

“I'm not very smart. I got everything messed up. I broke it and can't put it back together.”

“Is that what he told you?” Colm's voice was angry now. 

“No it's not like that. He was like that to everyone -” but he stopped. That was a lie. He wasn't like that to Wylan. Or Inej. Or Nina. The constant berating. Making him feel less.

“You are brilliant. And anyone who makes you feel like that is not good.” Colm wiped away tears on both their faces. “It is good that you're here. Let's visit your mother.”

Still sniffing, Jesper visited the gravesite for the first time since he left Novyi Zem. 

“Sometimes I forget her face,” Jes whispered. “And I hate it. I remember her voice. But her face.”

“She was the most beautiful woman on all Novyi Zem. She loved wearing yellow and green pattern turbans and would always twist it perfectly when she was going out.” Colm smiled. “She would go to the market once a month and get her hair braided. When I met her, I had never seen such masterpieces. But my favorite was before she put them in. Coarse beautiful hair, thick as the heavens and the softest to lay my head on. And eyes so dark they were endless.”

Jes hoped to love someday like his father loved Aditi Hilli.

“You two were inseparable. You were shadow, and she couldn't bear to punish you, even when you bled swear words into our crops.” they both laughed at that. “I don't even know where you heard that.”

“The sailors,” Jesper replied. “Where we used to get fresh fish down by the docks. Are the sea markets still lively?”

“They are. There's more security, with all the interlopers trying to turn us into Umhlaba Obiwe.” The Stolen Land, or what they called the Southern Colonies. 

The days passed and Jesper felt more at peace than he had in a long while. Supported and loved by complete strangers. Old women with brown bark skin calling him baby, teasing him for being half Kaelish but never malicious. People his own age giving him flirtatious glances but never in a fetishizing way like in Ketterdam. Not asking him if the rumors about Zemeni men were true, or to touch his hair without asking.

Walking around by the port, Jes was able to converse easily in Kaelish, Kerch, and several Zemeni dialects, which meant everyone needed him and lauded his skills. He felt good about himself. No trying to prove his worth while feeling on the outskirts. Like he would never truly be accepted and belong.

He wandered by a merchant table selling guns. The pearl handles were mined in Novyi Zem, but they were engraved with Kaelish knots and designs. The iridescent design captured his eyes and he picked them up, gauging the weight and the way they felt in each hand. They were sleek, light, and clearly superior.

“I'm going to come back,” he said. The owner, somewhere off to the side, mumbled their agreement. He needed to convert some more of his Kerch money. Jes was still annoyed that he was being placed on an allowance of his Ice Court money. His addiction was wrought from pain and an unused gift. But they still didn't trust him. So before he left, he took out a large sum without anyone knowing. There wasn't any reason he shouldn't be in charge of his own. And he felt, deep down, Kaz was still trying to use it to control him.

At the Central Bank of Coastal Novyi Zem, he withdrew some more spending money. Enough for the guns and a treat for his father. 

He wandered by the post, where a letter was waiting for him from Wylan. It was dictated, and he recognized Kaz's script, which sent mixed feelings to the pit of his stomach. Instead of tearing it open, he shoved it in his back pockets. Why wouldn't Wylan have Mariya write it for him? Why send personal notes through the Dregs? Instead of being happy, anxiety reared its ugly head. He didn’t want to read Wylan’s words filtered through Kaz, not when he was somewhere new.

“You look worse off than when you left,” a voice chimed at the gun merchant. A Zemeni girl around his age sat, her hair twisted in multiple stylish knots over her head, sectioned into triangles. She had a wide smile with a gap between her teeth and deep brown skin several shades darker than his. “Need a gun for your troubles?”

“That doesn't seem responsible. What if I blow my brains out?”

“I’m taking a chance.”

“Did you make these?” he asked.

She nodded. “I have Zemeni, Shu, and Kaelish designs.”

“Why only those?”

“Kerch have no gods or morals or sun in the sky. Fjerda and Ravka,” she spit on the ground. “Two sides of the same deadly coin. They have no place with me.” She cocked her head at him. “You're the Kaelish one.”

“Half,” he said, although he didn't mind. In Ketterdam he was always Zemeni. Here, they recognized many parts of him. “My Da is Colm Fahey.”

Her eyes lit up. “Colm! I love him. I tell you what, Zowa. Buy one and the second is free. You need two.”

Jes narrowed his eyes. “You just want me to buy something. I’ve seen every scam.” But he did pick out the pistols he was looking at earlier. “How did you know I was Zowa?”

She motioned at the table. “Zowa always hold the guns differently. An extension of yourself and not a weapon in the hand. Also, me too. I run a school for zowa children in the town over, if you'd like to join us.”

“There are schools here?”

“Did you think I was going to send kids to Ravka?” She gave an unladylike snort. He hadn't even considered it. Maybe if he had known that growing up, things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't have been in Ketterdam at all. “Colm said your name is Jesper. I'm Atiena.” 

The letter sat heavy in his pocket as he extended a hand to her. “Ndiyavuya ukukwazi.”


	2. Nabaluki

_Dear Jes,_

_Its so quiet without you here. Not that you’re loud, but you’re kind of loud and I miss you! The bed is too big. I didn’t realize a bed was so big. I’m almost thinking about replacing you with a cat until you come back, but then I remember cats can stink up the place. I wrote a song for you on the flute but you’re not here to listen to it, so what’s the point? I’ll have to make it perfect when you come home._

_When are you coming home?_

_If you take too long, I’ll have to learn to write these letters myself. I’m getting better but I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. I hope Kaz is writing down what I say. Kaz, are you writing down what I say, I hope you’re writing down what I say because if you don’t I’m going to murder you. Or something. I don’t know._

_I think Kaz is writing all that down too. I promise I’m working on my threats._

_Ketterdam is bustling with noise about you-know-what. And there’s so much of it over there. You own a whole farm of it, you could make a boatload of money. If you wanted to. Are you being responsible with yours there?_

_What is Novyi Zem like? I’ve never been outside Kerch, you’ll have to explain it in great detail. It is so far away that by the time this letter gets to you, I’ll probably have to work on another one to send. Is it true there are animals there unlike any others? That you can’t find anywhere else? I don’t like that you’re so far away. I have so much to say, and I can’t even write it all down for you. I’m working on it. I promise._

_I hope this letter is long enough, Kaz is it long enough? I think he wrote that down too, ignore him. How can I say everything I want to say when its been so long, and there’s a whole ocean between us? I hope the Squallers are fast and efficient._

_Love, yours truly,  
Wylan._

Jesper blinked back tears. At the end of the letter, written in Kaz’s neat handwriting, was Wylan’s painful and honest signature. That meant more to him than everything else, and he stared at it. The progress. The love. He knew the insecurity that ate away inside, built by years of Jan van Eck’s cruel mistreatment. As quickly as he could, he found a paper and ink to write his response.

_Wylan van Sunshine,_

_You have some competition here - the sun shines days and days in a row until suddenly there’s a great rain, like the sky wants to wash you clean. I miss you._

He stopped before writing ‘I wish you were here.’

_The flowers are growing well, but people are unhappy. And I get it. We will never sell the farm, Wylan. Don’t ever bring that up again._

He started scratching it out.

_The flowers are growing well, but people are unhappy. But the farm is ours. We have acres of flowers but that’s not all. We have beautiful horses that can run around. I made a new friend and she explained that many people are using jurda flower to tint their skin, like they used to do in the old days against the sun. It looks very beautiful._

_I go to get my hair done now by barbers and it looks amazing. They use these special ingredients you can’t find in Ketterdam. How is your mum doing?_

He wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure who would be reading his letters. The nausea settled in his stomach again. 

_I think I'm going to stay here longer than expected. There's more I need to do and I really like it here. It's different. The colors, the food. Me. Da says hi. Don't go on rooftop capers until I'm back to catch you._

_Love,_

Pause. These letters weren't safe. 

_Yours,  
Jes_

He used his gift to sap the extra ink from his mistakes out and sealed it up, addressing with a flourish to Wylan Hendriks of Ketterdam.

There was something powerful in riding around town on a sleek Kaelish horse. He kicked his heels, waving goodbye to his father on the porch. The wind whipped around him. His hair was done in finger coils and bounced along with him. The air was different here - Zemenis put a lot of emphasis on windmills they prized healthy and hale lands. The land provided and the people tended.

Dirt was kicked up as his horse Nguvu trotted. He remembered his mother teaching him to ride. She was fearless and charismatic, and could stand on a galloping beast and shoot a bullet in a bull's eye. 

He vaguely wondered if they still held those magnificent competitions. The Daughters of Novyi Zem had ornate contests to showcase their talents in a variety of areas, the would-be matriarchs. Northern women with gold coins in their braids and copper skin, Eastern women with elaborate beadwork, and Western with their fighting sticks lavished in carvings. Colm said his mother bested every competitor that looked her direction.

The neighboring city was a smaller suburb of the port, with rolling hills and smaller homes, like his own farmhouse. But they were closer together, and he saw a variety of specialty shops. He slowed Nguvu down and slid off the saddle. 

“Treat for you and your horse?” a voice called out from a food stall. A young man with strong shoulders bid Jesper over. The smell of grilled meat filled the air. 

“What do you have?”

“Chicken, goat, and veggie skewers. Lots of sauces. Sweet, or hot enough to burn the roof of your mouth.”

Jes paid for a goat and veggie skewer and coated it in a spicy-sweet sauce, the vendor polishing a mango for Nguvu. The juices dripped down his hands as the horse eagerly dug in. “Are you new here?”

“Yes. My name is Jesper. My family owns a jurda farm off the coast. I'm here for Atiena's Zowa school.”

“Atiena! That is my sister. She mentioned you. My name is Sefu.” Sefu had long, thin locs dusting past his shoulders, and orange dye spotting his skin like some leopard. The jurda dye. His smile had the same gap as Atiena, and his eyes the same thick eyelashes that fanned their high cheekbones. “You're the Kaelish one.”

“Half,” Jesper said. “But yes.”

“You have seaborn eyes, it makes sense. Have you been to the Isles? They seem like a fair people.”

“Just once when I was younger. I don't remember much other than the cold. But it was cold and green. Not cold and gray.”

Sefu snorted exactly like Atiena. “Of course. If you like I can watch your horse. I could always use a handsome companion.”

Jesper didn't usually get embarrassed. He did the embarrassing things, especially when it came to Jesper. But everything was different here, and his cheeks darkened.

“His name is Nguvu.”

“Well eat your food. I'll get Nguvu some water, and Atiena is a couple blocks down, you can't miss the bright yellow building.”

In Ketterdam, Jes would never dare leave his horse with a stranger, but Sefu felt honest. There corruption of riches wasn't prominent, and more hardworking, honest people. It wasn't glamorous, but it was nice. 

Sefu had been right, and by the time Jesper devoured his skewers he arrived at a bright yellow building. It was two stories and nestled between a toy store and a repair shop. Rows of brown-skinned curly-haired dolls stared at him as he opened the door. 

“Jesper! Is that you?!” Atiena bounced to the entrance, her hair still in stylish knots. “Help! I need wrangling.”

He jogged to the next room and saw that in the back field, around twelve Zowa children were wreaking havoc. A small tan boy with hoops in his ears pushed wind into another boy's face, who's mouth was comically flapping. A fire had started somewhere on a patch of grass, and another patch was growing uncontrollably. Giggles emerged from the tall stalks.

“WATOTO!” Jes yelled, cupping his hands. “ABANTWANA!” 

Curious, a couple kids poked their heads out of the tall grass. 

“Who are you?” asked one. A russet brown girl with shorn hair glared at him, and Jes instantly knew that was the leader. 

In response, Jesper pulled out one of his new pistols. Atiena raised an eyebrow but remained silent. He pointed it up in the air. In his free hand he palmed a bullet. 

“Bang!” he shouted, pulling the trigger. There wasn't a sound and the kids giggled, getting closer. He brought out his other hand and showed them the bullet, which he turned into a small jurda flower, the gunpowder escaping onto his palm.

“Oooohhhhh!” they exclaimed. Chaos forgotten, they wanted to see what else he could make. Jesper was still honing his craft but he did the best he could. Then the questions started. He couldn't tell where one child ended and another began.

“Okay, lets leave Jesper alone. You can ask him later. But now it’s classtime.”

The kids filed in obediently now, and Atiena mouthed ‘thanks’ over their heads. Jesper followed, curious himself at how a zowa school worked. He knew everything about the Second Army and the Ravka Orders of Grisha, but he was trying to unlearn that. This was new. And as far as he could tell, attitudes towards zowa were very different than grisha.

“Lets show off for Jesper. Who can tell me how we label our ancestral gifts?”

Little brown hands shot up into the air, and Jesper wished he brought a notebook and pen to write everything down. He may as well be a student in the class.

“Outside and inside!” The leader spoke up. 

“Who can explain that?” Atiena asked again.

“Whether we can change things inside people or out in the world,” another child chirped up, then quickly raising his hands since he forgot. 

“Very good Kwesu. Why is it bad to hide what you are?”

Another hand, another answer. “Because you were chosen, and gifted. You reject who you are and the ancestors will never be silenced. They speak to you until you listen.” 

“Very good kids.”

One child apprehensively lifted up her hand. “Why do some people hate us?”

“Zowa used to be revered all across Novyi Zem. In many places they still are. When Ravka stole our land, they brought their enemies, Fjerda with them. Fjerda has been poisoning the minds of people with their primitive religion and zealotry.” Atiena’s face was hard, and Jes thought of Matthias again. Matthias had changed. When Jes died, he would have to ask his ghost about it.

Jesper sat in the back of the class, enraptured by the little faces dutifully answering questions. Atiena lead them in a nursery rhyme that was supposed to help center their energy, and bring out the Zowa powers. Jes found himself tapping along, memorizing the words. It was more like a dance, ta-ta-ta on the left thigh, ta-ta-ta on the right. Then they moved their shoulders to the beat.

Zowa powers were never happy and carefree in his world. In Ketterdam it was fraught with politics and money. In Ravka it was a terrifying force and in Fjerda it was a sin. But here? It just was. They called out in different dialects of Novyi Zem. West, East, North, and South. Even those who were lost in the stolen lands.

Jesper discreetly wiped his eyes as Atiena said goodbye to the students. 

“So, Kaelish-man,” she teased. “How do you like?”

“Half. And it's amazing,” he responded truthfully. “I want to help.”

Atiena grinned. “Rumor has it you went to the Ice Court and have befriended Ravkans. I think you can help.”

They walked back to Sefu's food stand, where Nguvu was looking chipper and well rested. They walked in companionable silence towards the edge of town where beautiful, strange looking trees with wide flat tops reached to the sky and shaded them. Jes noticed his skin was already several shades darker than in Ketterdam, and had a glow about it. It wasn't anything compared to Sefu and Atiena but it felt normal.

“They tried attacking a farm about seventy kilometers North,” Atiena said, breaking the dreamy silence of the afternoon.

“That's not very far,” Jes replied. His father's face flashed in his head. “Who did?”

“We don't know for sure. The official report is bandits. But we think it's more than that,” she said with a shrug. “We wanted to go check it out. Do you want to come with us? You speak so many dialects, and you're a farmer too. You can tell if anything is wrong with the flowers.”

Jesper nodded. “What kind of Zowa are you? Are you a Fabrikator too?”

Atiena snorted again. Jes couldn't help but grin. “Fabrikator. Ugly word. Nabaluki is what you are. Weaver.” she smiled. “But I am umzingili intliziyo.”

Hunter Heart, he translated. Must be like a Heartrender. “I am not a Zowa at all,” Sefu said. “I am just strong and charming.”

“That's not all,” Jes interrupted. “You also make great food.”

A smile lit up Sefu's face. “That too.” 

As usual, Jes found himself along for the ride. Nguvu was dropped at a stable and they boarded a train to get up to the farm. Jes couldn't focus much on the conversation at hand, his mind drifting from the countryside to Wylan, to Ketterdam, to his father, his mother, and the blessing inside him. Sefu and Atiena didn't seem to mind, carrying their own conversation. It felt easier than the Dregs. He wasn't trying so hard. 

“When did this train get built?” Jes asked. He thought that Novyi Zem didn't have intercontinental transport yet, not like the other places.

“Only a few years ago. There's been a unification effort, so Novyi Zem can self sustain. The jurda parem isn't the first waking moment for us. It goes from the far North, East, West, all the way to the colonial border. They couldn't get building rights to continue the tracks into Ravkan territory.” Sefu wrinkled his nose. “Smaller ones are being built now.”

His brain buzzed as they disembarked the train. Some things never changed - he came home and now he was on some adventure with people he didn't know very well. Jes started to panic. He didn't think any of this through. His father was probably worried. 

“You okay?” Sefu asked. Atiena paid them no mind as she rented some horses from the station. 

“Yeah, fine,” he lied. Sefu gave a sidelong glance but turned away.

The sun was starting it's lazy descent when they rode onto the farm. Jes immediately knew something was wrong. There was a hum in the air and an acrid smell, like paper on a match. 

“Teacher Atiena!” shouted a little girl. She had braids swinging around her head, decorated lovingly with shells. “You came!”

“Of course,” she said. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded and they talked rapidly. Jes lost focus again, wandering to find the source of the smell. The farmers cottage was a multi family home, but as he rounded a corner, found a gaping hole where there should have been a wall. Debris was still scattered around, a white haired granny leaning against a post while parents cleaned up. He drew his eyebrows together.

There was a hole in the jurda crops to the North, blackened petals wrong against the hills. There was little damage to the other fields. Cassava, Tobacco, and Plantains stood firm. Cacao. 

“I need to go home,” he said, to no one in particular. He ran back to the horse, getting the saddle ready. 

“Wait! Jesper!” called Atiena. “Where are you going?”

Jesper hopped on top. “I need to be with my Da right now.”

Her dark eyes flashed with confusion and he waited for the beratement he would hear in Ketterdam. 

_Chickening out when it gets tough._

_Starting what you can't finish._

_Jesper Fahey, biting more than he can chew._

_Unreliable Jesper._

_Jesper the Betrayer._

_Nothing Jesper, can't take anything seriously._

“Then go,” she said with a smile. “I'll see you again.”

His heart pounded. “Really?”

“You don't need permission,” she replied. “Go with your Da. Check on him. I will call on you later.”

It was late when Jes got home but Colm was still up and waiting for him by the fireplace. “Where’ve you been Jes?” he asked. He hugged his father, reconciling the different emotions inside. 

“Made some friends. Saw the Jurda farm that was bombed up North.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Dunno. Was curious. But… I don't want to get involved in anything right now Da. I just want to stay home. I could have stayed in Ketterdam.”

“Stay as long as you like, son. Weeks, months, years. I'll make you some hot cacao.”

Jesper curled up on the sofa, shaking off the day and the feelings it left behind.


	3. Baba Jes

Jes avoided the market, and his hair was impossible. The finger coils were washed out, the curls went every which way, and his hairline was uneven. 

“You can just go,” Colm said, his eyes twinkling as Jesper anxiously ran his hands through the kinks. “Who are you trying to avoid now?”

“No one,” he immediately shot back, turning to the stove to flip eggs. The yolks were already broken but he was determined to cook for his dad. “Why do you think I’m avoiding someone?”

“I raised ye didn’t I?” Colm smiled but there was a flash of worry. Precisely what Jes was trying to avoid - dragging his father into some weird scenario again where he would be shot at. The guilt came and went in waves when he thought about running through the buildings and courtyard, his father’s life in a delicate balance. Jes wasn’t going to do that again. Whatever was going on with the jurda farms, he didn’t want any part of it.

“Ketterdam robbed ye of useful skills did it?” Colm said, peering around the side. Jes tried to shake him off but he persisted, standing on his tiptoe over Jesper's shoulder. “Don't forget to season.”

“I haven't been away _that_ long,” he muttered. Truth be told, Wylan was even worse. A life of people cooking for him meant Wylan’s kitchen turned into a demolition lab. With food instead of compounds. Mariya usually saved the day. Jesper tried to avoid the Slat altogether. 

By the end he made messy eggs and toast, and despite Colm's teasing, his father ate every bite. Jes poked at his slightly charred toast, a step up from the crispy concoctions a few months ago. His father started rattling off the to-do list for the day. The stables needed to be cleaned out, and it was nearly time to start the crop turnovers. A few local boys who worked on the farm for Colm would be stopping by later to help. Jurda season was at its peak - any good farmer worth his salt knew the land needed a break in-between. And that took preparation.

“Can we save a small plot of jurda?” Jesper asked. “Not much. An acre. I want to try some things.” He wiggled his fingers at his father, who looked surprised, but nodded. 

“Aye. We can spare it.” 

Jesper still couldn’t get used to the trust. His father got up to clean the dishes - no questions asked. Even after everything he did.

To repay his father, Jesper took on the worst task. Cleaning out the stables. He stuck fragrant jurda oil by his nostrils and got to work, his stomach turning in knots. He wouldn’t be caught dead in Ketterdam slinging manure. _Good thing you’re not in Ketterdam anymore,_ he thought. He threw himself into physical labor, and the disquiet gave way to work.

He began to sing under his breath, sweat dripping down his face, some old song his father used to sing around the house with his mum.

“Is cosúil gur mheath tú nó gur thréig tú an greann,” he sang, his Kaelish rustier than his Zemeni dialects. Bt the syllables came easier, making his way through the stanzas until each stable was cleared out. 

“That was pretty,” a voice called out from the side.

Breathing heavy, he looked to the side where Sefu was standing, jurda blossoms comically shoved in his nose. Unable to help it, Jesper started laughing, leaning on the shovel for support. Sefu frowned, but eventually grinned. “Your father told me you’d be out here. What’s it about?”

“The song?” Jesper said, using a towel to wipe his forehead. “A mermaid.”

“Anything happen to her?”

“No. She’s just sad.” Jesper shrugged. “Why are you here with flowers up your nose?”

“We haven’t seen you in a couple weeks and wanted to check in on you,” Sefu said. “And your hair.” He wrinkled his nose exactly like Atiena as he looked at Jesper’s hairline. “You got a letter and we bribed the postman to let us bring it to you.”

Wiping his hands on the towel, he grabbed the letter.

 _Jesper Fahey_ was written in luxurious calligraphy on the front, and it made him smile. Mariya’s writing. He fought the urge to rip open the fat envelope, and turned back to Sefu. 

“Did you just come here to clown me for my hair?”

“I did. Atiena is inside with your dad, and she’s willing to fix it for you.”

Warmth spread through his chest as Sefu smiled at him, and Jes went behind the barn to use the faucet and strip down to his underclothes before running in the house. His friends in Ketterdam had seen him in a various states of undress but now he felt, well, eighteen and shy. He managed to avoid Atiena, Sefu, and his Da and scrubbed in the bath room, not leaving until his skin had a pink tinge underneath the brown. 

In the mirror he looked at the various shades on his body. His thighs were the palest - a tan color that rarely saw the sun, and he turned a neapolitan of browns until it got to his face, the darkest. Warm and deep, he realized the hard work and clean air made his face leaner, more dramatic, and his skin was clear, old scars disappearing under the even brown. He looked more like his mother, and the revelation made his eyes sting.

Throwing on a bright blue and yellow patterned kitenge that went to his mid-thigh, and linen pants, he nervously brushed his hand through his hair and went out to join them.

Colm was entertaining them with Kaelish-style tea and pastries. Sefu looked delighted by the jams while Atiena mused over the different jurda products Colm was working on. They all looked up when Jes walked into the sitting area. 

The sitting room was modest and dated - Colm didn’t have the heart to redecorate after Aditi passed away. The walls were still painted her favorite color, a vivacious yellow that clashed with the jurda visible outside the window. The furniture was comfortable, and artwork by local Zemenis adorned the walls, alongside landscapes of the Kaelish coastline. Sitting by the fireplace was a black and white photo of the three of them. 

Jesper, barely six, was blurry. He hadn’t been able to sit still long enough for the exposure time. Aditi was serene, regal, with the hint of a smile on her lips and in her eyes, a fabulously-styled headwrap throwing her thick curls every which way. Colm was beaming. The camera had a hard time reconciling the difference in Colm and Aditi’s skin so blurry Jes was the focus of it all, and he hadn’t been still enough. But they loved that picture.

“Hey Jes,” Atiena said, waving. The gold bracelets on her wrist jangled. “Your Da is brilliant. I see where you get it from.” She picked up a capsule that Colm had put together. “This would be amazing for people in constant pain.”

Colm turned red but shrugged. “Trying to get competitive. We don’t know what the future will bring with these burnings.”

Suddenly Jes wasn’t in his living room.

He was in Ketterdam. Or was it a field of jurda blossoms? No. It was fire. Fire all around, fire around his dad, fire closing in on them. Everything that he had left going up in jurda-scented flames until there was nothing for him. No one who would love him for Jesper Llewellyn Fahey-Hilli. Everything deserving of love shredded away, thrown on the floors of the Ice Court and tossed in the dirty canals of Ketterdam. Every terrible thing he did, every person he killed and life he destroyed was for nothing.

“Jes?” Sefu called. He blinked and the sitting room was back.

He became acutely aware of everyone staring at him, so he grinned. “Can you work your magic on this?” he pointed at his hairline.

Colm watched, intrigued, as Atiena pulled out a little barber’s kit. Jesper sat down in a free chair and she stood up, standing behind him. Jes took the opportunity to look at Sefu’s locs, which were intricately braided together up the sides, falling down into one big heavy braid in the center. His facial hair was kept tight, which was the style among young men currently. Jesper couldn’t grow a beard, much to his chagrin. 

Atiena expertly lined up Jesper’s edges, using a razor to high fade Jesper’s side, the coils still longer on the top. 

“They’re so pretty, I can’t crop them all off. Are you trying to grow them out?” 

Jesper nodded, and Atiena snatched the razor away from his ear. “Careful there, you probably need those.”

He kept waiting for the siblings to bring up the burning farms - dragging him into an underbelly he didn’t know Novyi Zem had. But they didn’t. Instead they asked Colm questions about the Wandering Isles, and Jesper didn’t do the talking for once. The conversation felt natural.

“So, has Jes been behaving himself with you two?”

“Perfect angel,” Sefu said, fitting the last scone into his mouth. “Should we be worried?’

Colm grinned and Jesper grinned, a number of embarassing childhood stories going through his head. But Atiena saved the day.

“I teach at a Zowa school when I’m not fixing hair and selling guns. The children were taken by him. I would love to take him on as an assistant.”

“There’s a school for… zowa?” Colm asked. He glanced at Jesper. “How long has it been around?”

“This one has only been around about ten years. Our mother started it. But the zowa school tradition began at least seventy-five years ago, maybe longer.” She shrugged.  
“Not as long as other countries, but we aren't barbarians who steal children. They come for a couple hours after their studies, and one day on weekends.”

“Will you give me a moment?” Colm asked, polite as ever as he rushed out, probably under the pretense of getting more tea. 

“Is he alright?” Sefu asked, lightly tapping his head with his hand. 

Jes nodded, and went back to join his Da in the kitchen. He held his face in his hands, shoulders slumped. Hearing footsteps, he hastily wiped his face but his cool gray eyes were red and watery. “Are you alright?” Jes asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Oh, I just -” he inhaled. “I mucked everything up didn’t I Jes?” 

Jesper drew his eyebrows together. “Why would you say that?”

“You heard what the nice lass said. Decades, they’ve been helping kids like you with your powers and controlled. There was nothing to be worried about. Back home -” he gave a shuddering sigh that tore Jesper’s heart in two. “You hear about the Second Army all the time. They would promise kids great things and steal them away from families. Or the Fjerdans would come in and take them with brute force. They had to hide. If I had known it was different here -” he began to sob. “You could have had a better life,” he managed to say.

He went up to Colm and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Jes tried to imagine a different kind of life. One where he went to a Zowa school and never went to Ketterdam. Or went to Ketterdam and didn’t have the sickness. Where he finished going to school and didn’t get involved with the Dregs. But that was a maybe-life and it never happened and he let the thought go.

“I love you Da,” he whispered. “I made my own choices.”

“You should help Atiena with that school,” Colm said, the sniffles slowing down. “You could learn something. And maybe,” he searched Jes’ face for an answer, or maybe Aditi’s face. “The Zowa way is better. Or, maybe it’ll work for you more than the Grisha way. I don’t know. You are Zemeni.”

“Half,” Jes joked, giving him a smile. “You know they call me Kaelish man?”

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“No, not really. Because they like all the parts of me.”

Jesper and Colm stayed in the kitchen until Colm put himself together, the two of them getting some more tea ready. Atiena and Sefu were still in the sitting room, having a lively conversation about some of the musical artists that were popping up in Novyi Zem’s different regions. Apparently Atiena had just invested in a record player. 

“Wylan has one of those in his house,” Jesper chirped up, setting the tray of sweets on the table. Sefu looked so happy at the selection, it reminded him of Nina. He hadn’t seen her in so long. Maybe he needed to write her a letter too. “They’re really fun.”

“I haven’t used it too much yet,” Atiena said. “I have to pick the perfect records to play for our first party.” She gave him a curious look. “Who is Wylan?”

Jes’ cheeks burned and turned darker as all three of them looked at him. “Wylan is uh. My friend.” He winced. “No. He’s uh. My person,” he said. “He’s back in Ketterdam.”

“That is who’s been writing you letters,” Atiena teased. “Well good. Is he going to come to visit sometime soon? You have been here awhile.”

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded. He wanted to see Wylan. But he also wanted to keep this part of his life separate from the Dregs and if Wylan came to visit, then Kaz would probably hear all about it. And Jesper didn’t want that. He liked his privacy. His father and his new friends never pried more than needed. And that might all come crumbling down if his Ketterdam life intruded.

Atiena took the cue to change the subject. “Well, Jesper Gray-Eyes, please consider working with us. And don’t wait so long to get your hair done again.” 

Sefu looked pained but grabbed a couple extra sweets. “Thanks for all the food Baba Jes,” he said to Colm. “We’ll see you around, right?” he asked, reaching for Jesper’s hand. It took a moment for Jes to remember that hand-holding was no big deal among friends in Eastern Novyi Zem. 

He gave Sefu’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be around.”


	4. Nyota Heri

_Dear Jes,_

_Its been so long since you’ve been home. Is everything okay? I miss you. A lot of stuff has been going on. I think the Dregs are going to start getting into jurda, its been raising up a storm here. How is the farm doing? I heard about the attacks, all the way here in Ketterdam. I applied for a visa so I can visit you. I had to go to the Zemeni embassy. Could you write me a letter so I can get approved faster? I didn’t even know we needed visas now to go to Novyi Zem. I could always go through the Southern Colonies too, the Ravkan embassy is a little better about that I heard. I can just show up and cross the border._

_My mom is amazing (she’s writing the letter now, I bet you can tell). She helped me prepare my paperwork for the embassy. I asked Kaz and he asked why I would even want to go to Novyi Zem. Obviously, to see you. And I’ve never been outside of the Kerch borders. Shu Han, Ravka, and Fjerda are closer but I definitely wouldn’t want to go there._

_Speaking of Shu Han, you got a letter from Kuwei. I was going to burn it but mother told me I shouldn’t. I wish I could read it, but I can’t. Literally. Why would he be writing you?_

_You’re right about the weather - its so dreary. Just raining every day and without your smile, it just doesn’t feel right. And Kaz has been acting weird. I don’t know if its the you-know-what but it doesn’t feel right. Inej stopped by recently. Her parents and my mother have tea together. Isn’t that bizarre? They’re really nice Suli people. Not that Suli people aren’t nice, but I realized we don’t see them in Ketterdam a lot._

_I’ve noticed that Zemeni people aren’t mingling as much either. Something happened, with the Stadwatch and a Zemeni boy. They thought he had parem. That’s part of why things are so weird. Have you heard?_

_I walked around the Zemeni quarter, just to find something that reminded me of you, and they were very secretive. They’re traveling in groups around the city more. Even though I’m just a regular Kerch person. I felt bad. But I did find something. It was a bracelet with a black pearl on it. Novyi Zem is famous for its pearls. And they were so pretty on your guns._

_I love you, Jes. I can’t wait to see you._

_Wylan_

* * *

_Jesper Fahey,_

_I know we haven’t spoken much since the events at the auction. I am well, in Ravka. And I have become quite excellent as an Inferni in Ravka._

_I shouldn’t send this letter but I must. Ravka’s interest in jurda has become violent. Be careful. There are rumors floating around, and talk of expanding the Colonies and its agricultural hold in Novyi Zem. Attempts to replicate jurda fields do not work here._

_Stay safe._

_Kuwei_

* * *

_Jesper._

_It is time for you to return to your responsibilities in Ketterdam, and to the Dregs._

_Kaz_

* * *

_Jes!_

_I was hoping to see you when I landed back in Ketterdam, but Wylan tells me you’ve returned home for the meantime. Tell Colm I say hi, and thank you. I have enclosed my parent’s address. If you would like to send me mail, send it to them._

_Sincerely,  
Inej._

* * *

Jesper now knew why the envelope was so much heavier. He didn’t know how to feel about the four letters in front of him. He sniffed Wylan’s again, and caught the smallest whiff of cologne that had survived the journey. He smiled to himself and tucked it under his pillow, where the first letter was. 

He committed Kuwei’s letter to memory, enjoying the small doodle of a gun in the corner, and of a painting on the bottom. Inside the painting, Kuwei had sketched a portrait of himself holding a jurda flower. A touching tribute to their adventure, instead of pretending that it had never happened. Jes set it aside, unsure what to do with the information yet. Atiena and Sefu would have a better idea, and he was going to the night market with them.

Jes crumpled up Kaz’s letter, throwing it into the trash. He had no plans to return soon. And, it was starting to dawn on him that he didn’t miss Ketterdam at all. He missed Wylan, he missed waffles with Nina and he missed certain little things. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back. Novyi Zem had been his home before, and it was his home again. But first, he had to figure out what he was going to tell Wylan. That he got a job? That seemed so permanent. So final. It would be telling Wylan, but he needed to let him know to his face.

He quickly wrote out a letter for the visa, explaining the nature of his relationship with Wylan, that he would also house and be responsible for actions taken by Wylan while in Novyi Zem.

With the tightening of security around the jurda crisis, foreigners were looked at with scrutiny. Jes had no idea about the Stadwatch - how could they do that? He would ask Atiena about that too. She seemed to be up on everything going on.

Putting shea butter on his skin and lips, he grabbed his bag and decided to leave his pistols at home. He didn't really need them. The night market, according to Sefu, was “the shit”. Where young folks came out to play and spend money and dress to the nines and eat street food. 

Jes dressed in a bright and lush green top and swiped a stripe of yellow paint down the middle of his lips and chin, putting a small amount of pearl dust on his cheekbones to make them stand out more. He enjoyed playing with the makeup and the youth of Novyi Zem were exploring it as a whole.

Atiena was in a brightly patterned red and yellow kitenge skirt and a midriff-baring crop top, her afro finally unleashed for the world to see. Jesper was impressed by the transformation. Golden doorknockers swayed from her ears.

Sefu was in a sleeveless dashiki-like top and linen pants that tapered in mid-calf. His locs were piled on top his head. 

“You two look amazing,” Jesper said. Under the stars they looked like beautiful pools of inky brown skin, still catching the light like jewels. For the first time, Jes felt self-conscious. How could he stack up next to the twin perfections? 

Atiena cut him out of his plunge into self-loathing. “So do you.”

He smiled and they rode horses to the nearest trolley station, a few kilometers away. Jesper couldn’t believe the progress - in some short years, trolleys and railways and record players made their way to his home. When he left, they had to go far just to meet another person. Now he had a fast way to get to the Port City and the Capitol, a quick horse ride away. 

The night market was a sight to behold. 

Lights were expertly strung about to show all the colors from many booths. Instead of the regular market - selling practical goods such as food and clothes, here Jesper saw specialty items he didn’t even think to own. Gold and pearl clips to go on ears and hair. Brash and beautifully colored-clothing the Dregs would laugh at. Ornate pipes meant especially for consuming jurda. Tinctures, flowers, pens, shoes. Everywhere he looked, Jes noticed something new.

And there was so much food. The smells fought for his attention, and spices created a pleasant sting towards the top of his nostrils. He tried to imagine any of the Dregs in a place like this. Ketterdam seemed two-dimensional in comparison to the bustle of people in front of him. How could he ever want a gray and violent life compared to this?

Sefu pat his stomach, flashing Jes and Atiena a grin. “I saw we get food, look around and shop, get more food, look around, and eat some more?”

“I have a friend you would love. She’s in -” he cut off before he said Ravka. What would they think? “Ketterdam. Her name is Nina.”

“Maybe we’ll meet someday,” Sefu said. Then he head into the bazaar, leading them to his favorite food stalls. 

They ate and mingled, Jesper trying to soak in every bit of stimulation he could. It was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. He was desperate to hold on to whatever memory or moment was happening. Atiena seemed to know everyone, and introduced Jesper as her new assistant teacher. She gave him candy, popping it under his tongue and a couple sweets he could suck on, but didn't pay much attention while she explained or made introductions. The names flew past him, so beautiful. He would have to ask again. Jesper was Kaelish - so simple, and everyone would know who he was. Jesper, son of Colm Fahey.

At one point Jesper stood and stared at a hanging strand of lights, enraptured by the rippled texture on the paper lanterns. He was able to dim the chatter in the background, pleased by the decoration in front of him.

A hand touched his. He looked over and saw Sefu’s deep-set eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Jes nodded, enjoying the physical touch. He missed Wylan, and he missed Wylan next to him. “These are gorgeous.”

Sefu grinned. “They are. Did Atiena give you drugs?”

“What do you mean?” Jes asked. 

“Did she put something under your tongue?”

Jes opened his mouth and stuck his tongue towards the roof and Sefu let out a belly laugh. 

“Blue as the ocean. You shouldn't eat everything in front of you.”

“Rubbish.”

They shared a laugh and Sefu put an arm around his shoulder. Jes kept waiting for the strange looks but there were none. Touches between people - even men, was just normal. He thought about the difference in Ketterdam. How fixated he'd been on Kaz's ungloved hand. In comparison Sefu's was large. Not slender and delicate. But calloused worker hands with a wide palm and thick fingers. 

“But you're okay?” Sefu asked again. “You look a little lost.”

“I am a little lost. But I'm okay too. I will be.” Jes thought. “I'm trying to see home through my own eyes again.” He was a different person when he left those years ago. Now, it was his turn to decide who he was. What he wanted to do. Maybe not a gunslinger in a gang, but an assistant teacher at a Zowa school. He tasted the job title in his mind. Was he a teacher? 

Sefu lead him back to where Atiena was driving a hard bargain over some new records for her player. Jes reached into his sling bag and pulled out the East Zemeni currency, the pula. Atiena rolled her eyes before giving a sickly sweet smile, and Jesper flipped through the bins for his own. He picked one with a bright yellow cover, since it reminded him of Wylan.

“Should we go dancing?” Atiena asked, leaning in so Sefu and Jes could hear. 

He knew people went dancing in Ketterdam. Despite what everyone said about the Kerch city, there were normal people who went to clubs and gatherings. But the idea of dancing with friends felt so foreign to Jesper. 

“I don't know if I dance,” he replied honestly. 

“Of course you do,” she said. “Its in your bones. Just like your mother's before you. Not too sure about Colm though,” she teased. 

A bit high and a lot apprehensive, Jes followed as they worked their way through the market to the main thoroughfare. Atiena explained it was the hip quarter, where young Zemenis came out to play and shop and have a good time. Jesper saw coffee shops, book stores, and even a music store with Zemeni instruments. He made a mental note to take Wylan there. 

They finally reached an alleyway where Atiena went to the side door. She gave it a sharp knock and wiggled her eyebrows at them. 

A tall woman with two long braids answered the door. She was taller than all of them, with muscles that made Jesper excited. 

“Password?”

“Nyota Heri,” she said.

He made a mental note, mouthing the words to himself. Blessed star. 

He didn't know what he expected a club to look like, but they checked their bags and merchandise from the market to the doorwoman. Sefu and Atiena were already moving their hips to the music. Thumping percussion with instruments and a sultry voice came from the stage. The building was decorated similar to the market, lights strung up so shadows flittered everywhere. There were some tables and booths by the wall, giving way to a large dance space. It wasn't so dark inside that he couldn't see the red and gold decorations of the interior.

Carefree bodies swayed and sweated, while others gathered around the bar for drinks. Atiena pulled Jes to the middle of the floor while Sefu went to get drinks. 

“Loosen up, mtanashanti,” she grinned. “You're my assistant now. We will need to have some fun.” She grabbed his hands, putting them above her head and twirling underneath, before motioning at Jesper to follow. Then she moved her hips side to side, and he finally relaxed enough.

Normally he felt a bit too tall, too dark. But now, he was one of the many people in the crowd. Boys with makeup and girls with muscles. All shades of brown, wearing bright colors. Some danced well but most didn't. Sefu came back shortly with drinks, handing one to each of them. 

“In the Wandering Isles they say Slaínte,” Jes said. He raised his glass. “Slaínte!”

“Slaínte!” they said back, and they chugged the drinks. The three of them danced without inhibition, Jes letting the music and intoxication fill him up. Sometimes he danced with Atiena, or Sefu, or strangers, but mostly he danced himself. He drank more. More than he had in his life, especially in Ketterdam where it would get him robbed and killed. 

At one point they stepped out the back to get some fresh air. A second door lead to a back patio with seating, looking out towards the city and the harbor. There was another smaller bar, tended to by a short woman the same shade as Jes with a rich purple turban. It was much quieter outside, the drums a distant thump. 

He had his arm around Atiena, leaning happily against her. Sweat ran slick by his temples and down his chest. Atiena was flushed and her curls frizzed, but it only added to her charm. She was talking passionately about something political, and Jesper couldn’t keep up with her, so he fixed one of her earrings that was threatening to fall off.

“I’m saying, Fjerda is trying to sink into our poor towns where there are no zowa - thank you Jesper - and, and…” she trailed off, staring at a spot in the air. “And turn our own against us! Their zealous ways are no good for life here. Just as bad as sanctimonious Ravkans -” she spit on the ground at the mere mention, causing a boy in a purple dashiki to rapidly move out of her path. “Trying to get us to fight wars that have nothing to do with us! And then that we use a Ravkan name for our government is the worst of all. Novyi Zem - its an insult. We are not new. We have lived with each other for centuries!” Her speech was slurred but she was all fiery passion, especially with her audience in the fresh air. She used Jesper for balance, standing on a stool that tipped dangerously. 

“No! This isn’t Novyi Zem.” She slammed her fist into her palm for emphasis. “Ravka is the one that split our soul down the middle. To hell with them, and their problems, and their Shadow Man. We are Nyota Heri. The blessed star.”

It suddenly clicked for Jesper. It was true - Novyi Zem - the words - were Ravkan. And it made no sense to call it that. He felt as if his entire world had been upended, but then he realized he was just drunk. He pitched over to bushes by the side of the building and puked.

A stray hand offered him water and he drank greedily, the colors swimming together worse than they had at the market. He sat down a little ways away, Atiena still talking politics. Sefu came and joined him, leaning back. His eyes had a watery look from inebriation and stared at his impassioned sister.

“She always gets like that when she’s drunk. Or sober.”

Jes chuckled, staring at his empty water glass. “Are there more like you two? Young people trying to fight against Ravka and Fjerda?”

“There are many of us, Jesper. People are tired.” Even through the drunkenness, he could hear the sadness in Sefu’s voice. “Things have been worse the last few years. Ravka has been trying to push the borders more. Treating proper Zemenis worse than Ravkans who come on vacation, or a change of scenery. So we live and fight under Nyota Heri instead. But we can talk about that another time. Are you okay?”

“Why do you keep asking if I’m okay?” Jes replied, tired of the question.

“Atiena is the mouth and heart. I am the ears and the hands Jesper. I listen to gossip when I sell food to foreigners at the markets.” He gave Jes a small smile. “Because I’ve heard rumors about what happened. The Ice Court. Ketterdam. Of a cruel boy. And sometimes you look sad and not sure what to do. You’re my friend, and I want you to be okay.”

Jes stared at Sefu. He saw nothing but honesty and sincerity in his kind face. Tears started to form in the corner of his eyes. He leaned against Sefu’s shoulders and let him wrap an arm around Jesper. He was getting used to the vulnerability in himself, and hoping that the siblings wouldn’t hold it against him. Wouldn’t weaponize it, or make him pay for daring to have emotions. That was Kerch life and love. And he was home now. 

* * *

Jesper was drifting in and out of consciousness on Sefu’s shoulder, when he was jerked awake. There were shouts, and he lurched when Sefu yanked his arm. The commotion was familiar. Panic. Yelling. And there were other voices yelling. It wasn’t a language Jesper knew, which was unusual. His brain filtered through the several Zemeni dialects he knew, Kerch, and Kaelish. 

He felt the boom in his chest first - under his rib cage and pushing against his heart while adrenaline flew through his body. Instinct from Ketterdam made him raise his arms up, shielding his face and Sefu’s. The blessing inside him rose up, unchecked and fueled by survival instinct. After the boom, it felt like little needles stabbed inside his ears, and fire from the blast. He wanted to run, wanted to shoot, and his head was dizzy. But all Jes could do was pray to whatever ancestors were watching as their bodies hit the ground and the club came half-crumbling down.


	5. Umphulukisi

Jesper got off his feet as quickly as he could, swaying. His head felt like it was splintered but he assessed the damage. Bodies were scattered about and there was blood, but he saw most of them breathing. He flipped Sefu onto his side and checked his pulse. It was there.

Then Jesper ran to Atiena. There were small flames on her kitenge skirt and he put them out before sitting her up. “Atiena! Wake up!”

Her eyes fluttered open, and then looked around. There was horror as she saw the decimated building around them. Jes helped her up, and she put a hand on his head. A terrible itchy sensation overcame him, but then it didn't hurt anymore. When she pulled her hand back, it was covered in blood. His blood.

“You can heal?” He asked. She looked at him confused but moved on. He still needed to learn about Zowa skills in Nov… Nyota Heri. A Siren started to blare in the city, a high pitched wail that made his hair stand on end.

“We need to find those who are most hurt and bring them outside!” she shouted. Jesper nodded and they made their way inside. The musicians had taken the brunt of the damage and he tried not to look at the limbs scattered about. They wouldn't play music again with that arm. But Atiena was able to stop the bleeding and Jesper removed shrapnel from bodies and faces. 

Atiena couldn't heal everyone - she was already wearing out. She did enough that no one would die. Sefu woke up and joined them. He lifted bodies like they weighed nothing and brought them to safety. Those who woke up could walk tended to smaller wounds, ripping up clothes and turbans for bandages.

A carriage came barreling down the street, and Jesper saw people with patterns stitched into their lapels. A man with wave patterns motioned to barrels of water in the back and began putting out any fires remaining, soaking the flames that reached for nearby buildings. Squallers with blowing winds on the lapels moved the smoke and dust out the building. 

Atiena sighed in relief and sat back when new healers came in to take over for her. 

Jesper’s instincts from the Dregs came through, and he looked for the epicenter of the blast, taking him to the outside wall behind the stage. 

He found the metal remains of the bomb. He grabbed all the scraps he could find, and looked around for any hint of what was going on. Something didn’t feel right in his body, and he probably should stop moving, but he knew there had to be something he was missing. Jesper put the scrap metal aside and started turning over some of the debris in his hands, rubbing them raw against the rough surface. Some of them were completely blackened and others were tiny crumbles.

Jes was full of cuts and scrapes, and his head was hurting again by the time he found what he was looking for. There was half of what looked like a crudely-drawn flower in white paint. He looked up, and it struck him that he saw zowa openly helping people. Openly taking care of the explosion. When did this happen? Was it normal?

Atiena finally found him, staring at the weird drawing. 

“Jes! Thank the ancestors. I had no idea where you went.” She put a hand on him again, gently. Her steely-tough exterior was gone, eyes wide and covered in dirt. “What is that?”

“Atiena, do you know what a rose is?” Jes asked.

She cocked her head to the side, considering the word. “Like rosewater? From the foreign vendors?”

“Roses are a Shu plant,” Jesper began. He learned that when he was briefly in school. “Sometimes we see it elsewhere but it is native to Shu Han and Ravka. My Da has never mentioned roses in Novyi Zem,” he said. He looked at the symbol, his two worlds crashing into each other. “Maybe Kerch? But Atiena, I don’t think someone local would have this.” He thought about it. Everything was about the jurda here, and orchids and violets. Roses would be considered ugly in comparison and by Zemeni standards.

Atiena narrowed her eyes and took the broken slab from Jesper, turning it over in her hands. “We will hold onto this.” Jesper nodded, and then gathered up the scraps of the bomb and followed Atiena out. Some of the zowa workers helped them into a wind-powered cart, and a Squaller took them to the nearest healing house.

When they arrived, non-zowa citizens were there, mostly journalists but a few volunteers as well. The club had been packed during the explosion, and the parents and family of those in attendance rushed there.

Ol’Umoyana, the port city, hadn’t seen a terrorist attack since it fought off faraway invaders 80 years ago, and it was the heart of Southeastern Novyi Zem. Atiena insisted that Jesper wait before trying to get back to the farm. He tried to head for a trolley and she grabbed his hands. “No, you need to stay. You have other injuries I couldn’t attend to. Let the other healers fix you up.” She wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Jesper decided to take a page out of Inej’s book - he was going to shut up and listen, see what he could learn. He was lead into the building and then to a larger room filled with cots and comfortable chairs. Because he wasn’t too badly injured, he was placed in a chair and told to wait. 

The zowa around him weren’t given any strange looks or glances. They were a part of everyday society. Was this new? They combined their skills effortlessly in order to keep everything running. Squallers brought fresh air in and out through windows up high near the ceilings. Inferni regulated the temperatures. Healers walked around. All of them without fear.

Jes started chatting with a girl in the chair next to him. She was holding her stomach as if in pain. “Ayanda,” she said, introducing herself. She looked at Jesper’s gray eyes and medium-brown skin, and smiled. “You’re Colm’s boy. He sells to me at the market.”

“My Da is more popular than I am,” he joked. The Kaelish farmer who wed the gem of Novyi Zem, Aditi Hilli. And had an immensely profitable jurda farm. He was starting to wish his eyes were the same beautiful dark brown he saw everyday. Rich colors that had a riverbed of patterns when you caught them in the light. “I’m Jesper, call me Jes.”

“Can you help me out Ayanda?” He looked around. “I’ve been living in Ketterdam for awhile now and I’ve never seen so many zowa working publicly. Is that normal?”

She nodded. “Its been this way since the big cities propped up. Zowa are so efficient.”

“Its so different than Ravka and Fjerda, isn’t it?” he wondered.

“Why should we fear the blessings of our ancestors? They bleed too, at the end of the day.”

Jes was sitting here, with a stranger who was presumably not a zowa, and she didn’t seem at all perturbed. In fact, now that he thought about it, no one ever seemed concerned with Atiena either. They all knew she taught the zowa children. Her school was charming and public, not locked away in some secret palace like Nina had told him. 

Ol’Umoyana was the largest port city in Eastern Novyi Zem - it had many names in other languages, all of them ugly in comparison to Eastern Zemeni’s dialect. The home of the market, of stores and clubs. And now it had been subjected to a terrorist attack. Fjerda and Ravka were obvious suspects. With zowa roaming so freely, maybe Fjerdan hatred combined with their might, and they decided Ravka wasn’t the only ideal target.

But the Kerch were another potential too. Because Ol’Umoyana now had an impressive fleet, and trade routes that didn’t depend on anyone. And all the corners of Novyi Zem were uniting under a Council of Elders from the different cultures. 

A few of the zowa around them had amplifiers. Jes wondered if Atiena had one, hidden away. He didn’t even understand the extent of her power, she didn’t use it much around him. She didn’t even like to calm down the children without asking them first. Maybe she knew how to fight. Did Novyi Zem have an army of zowa like the Second Army? The idea was always cruel to him but maybe it was helpful.

“Here comes the _umphulukisi_ ,” Ayanda said. The healer. A pang of discomfort went through him as he thought about his mother. Aditi Hilli. People who knew her talked about her beauty and compassion. But none of that helped since she was dead, unable to help him navigate these waters.

The person who attended to him put gentle hands on his head, and whatever was left of Jesper’s headache was gone, after the itching subsided. A warmth spread through his body as all the little bruises and bumps went away. Satisfied with their work, they went to Ayanda. He let himself close his eyes, thoughts running wild about zowa and politics, until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

When Jesper woke up, there was sunlight streaming through the windows of the healing house, and he saw his father slumped next to him, sitting on the floor. It took him a moment to remember what happened. The explosion at the club. The cries. The weird rose-mark on the wall that didn’t have any place, not in Novyi Zem. Even the words Novyi Zem felt wrong on his lips, now that he knew it was Ravkan. It felt like poison.

“Da,” he whispered. Colm straightened up, and seeing Jesper was awake, rushed to his feet. 

“Bring you home, and you still can’t seem to stay out of trouble.” He was speaking Kaelish, so Jesper knew he was anxious. Guilt wracked his body. He was forever doomed to worry his father, and somehow find his way into the worst situations. Colm looked around at all the zowa, who were milling or watching over the wounded, to make sure they were better. “Its strange seeing so many, who haven’t been taken to Ravka,” he whispered. "I should have left the farm more all these years."

Jesper knew the stories. The Wandering Isles was a small agricultural country and they didn’t have the structure that bigger countries had. Not even to the extent of rapidly industrializing Novyi Zem. And their zowa were recruited by Ravka to fight in wars that had nothing to do with them. Seemed strange to Jesper, even back when Nina talked about it. The little zowa children that Colm knew growing up were never heard from again.

But clearly, things were different now and different here. Jesper reached a hand out to his dad, who clasped it. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he said earnestly. That was the problem with Colm Fahey - all his emotions were clear as day in his eyes. He wondered if his mother teased him for it. “But you’re okay Jes? They patched you up?”

Jesper nodded. He was still in his flashy clothes from the night before, but all he wanted was a comfortable homespun kanzu instead. He smiled when a familiar face, Sefu, approached holding a bowl. 

“Where’s Atiena?” Jes asked. First in Kaelish, and then seeing Sefu's face, repeated in Zemeni.

“Hello to you too,” Sefu replied. He placed the bowl on Jesper’s lap and then reached into his knapsack for a washcloth. Jes sighed with relief as he washed off his face, his skin finally able to breathe without the grime. “Atiena is resting, she pushed her powers to their limit last night. I’m surprised you’re awake. You saved most of us last night.”

Jesper’s eyebrows knit together. “No I didn’t. I just helped Atiena after the blast.”

Sefu looked back and forth between Colm and Jesper. “No. The explosion was near us, outside. Jes, you used your blessing to redirect most of the explosive’s power. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d all be dead.” Sefu took the bowl back from Jes, who had finished washing off. “We have never lived through any sort of explosion before. How did you know what to do?”

Jes scratched the back of his head, looking at his father. Colm’s eyes were wide and worried. Maybe Jes would have a _umphulukisi_ lower his blood pressure before they left. “Well. I’m used to people shooting at me and making things explode in Ketterdam. My -” what did he want to call him? “Boyfriend. Wylan. He’s a demolitions expert. He’s actually visiting soon, we need to get his visa finished.”

Sefu’s eyes lit up. “He’s coming here? He can help us. What’s his name, then we can ask our parents to push it through faster.”

This was the first time Jes heard either Atiena or Sefu mention their parents. He assumed, like most people, they existed. But there were so many tragedies around parents, that it felt wrong to ask about it. “Wylan Van Eck,” he said. “From Ketterdam.” Sefu reached into his little pack again, jotting the information down. Jes waited for Sefu to mention anything about the fact Wylan had a boyfriend waiting in Ketterdam, but there was nothing. 

Instead he put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder. “We’ll see you soon, friend.” Then he turned to Colm, giving him a hearty hug. “Good to see you again, Baba Jes.” 

Jesper felt fine, but still let his Da help and fuss over him. There was tension in the air and on the streets. Children stayed close by their parents, and everyone rushed from one building to the next, checking over their shoulders for anyone who looked out of place. The collective anxiety was almost physical. 

Colm’s 2-person carriage was more like a glorified chariot with seats, and they began the slow journey back home.

“Its like I have too many admirers, can’t seem to stay away from me,” Jesper joked. He wanted to lighten the mood, and his old defense mechanisms came rising up from the debris. “Thought my face was too gorgeous and needed to do something about it.”

Colm rolled his eyes but smiled a bit. “Here I thought you were going to be a teacher and work with kids. Settle down. Give me some little bairns to chase after on the farm someday.”

That made Jesper smile. Colm did seem to like children, and he had the idea that if his mother hadn’t died healing some other child, he would have had brothers and sisters of his own. And Colm would have been delighted. 

* * *

It was only two days later when Jesper got a fancy letter, marked with the Zemeni Foreign Affairs seal. It informed him that his visa application on behalf of one Wylan Van Eck would approve, and that he would simply need to register with the department upon arrival to Novyi Zem and that Jesper was responsible for any wrongdoing, as his sponsor. A copy of the approval letter and the visa would be sent to Wylan and the Zemeni embassy in Ketterdam. 

The same day, Atiena called on him so that they could go teach. The ride to her little town didn’t seem so long, and Sefu was back at his food stand. There was tension in the faces of townsfolk but unlike the city, things felt sort of normal. But now Jesper would never leave his pistols at home again. He concealed them carefully, and Atiena had him put them in her desk after they arrived.

Bustling around to prepare for lessons, Atiena handed Jesper a notebook. On the first page, in beautiful handwriting so unlike his own, it had the zowa designations Jes was so curious about. He realized that the building was too quiet. There were no children nearby, at least that he could hear. 

“Jes we need to talk,” Atiena said. She turned to him with a serious face. His heart dropped. “I think we can trust you. We weren’t sure before - if the Kaelish was stronger than Zemeni. But you are both, equally, and you saved many people last weekend.”

He shrugged, unsure what to think or feel. “Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not.” They sat at one of the little tables where the children usually were. “Nyota Heri is under hard times. We have enemies, everywhere. Yes we have diplomats and maybe even a truce coming with Ravka, but they look at our borders and crops with jealousy. The attack made me realize we cannot wait, and you can help us.” She looked tired. “My mother is on the Council of Elders. My father is a diplomat to Ravka.”

“Why don’t you speak much of them?” he asked. 

“It doesn’t serve them well to know all our activities, in case they face questioning. They believe that we can’t always be peaceful but the Council would rather keep their head in the sand - or jurda farms. They think the other countries won’t risk cutting off trade but our parents think war is coming, no matter what. And this time, we won’t escape it. We have our own people in subjugation to the Ravkan throne, only a couple hundred kilometers south of our largest port city.” She glared. “We have Fjerdan missionaries poisoning the minds of people. And strange rumors have emerged from Shu Han and Kerch. So Sefu and I are taking up arms. Speaking to the youth. Getting them ready for whatever those colonizers can bring.”

Jes paled. This wasn’t just a money-making scheme. This was war. This was politics on a continental level. Stuff a farm boy wasn’t supposed to be a part of. “What do you want from me?”

Atiena’s face softened a bit. “Your skills and your brain. You know the Kerch and Fjerda in a way that our diplomats don’t. The ugly parts. And you can fight and shoot.”

“All Zemenis know how to shoot,” he said. But it sounded hollow in his own ears. His mother’s voice softly finished the sentence. _Not everyone can aim._ And no one other than his parents said he was smart. Ketterdam taught him that, mostly, he was a fuck up. 

Atiena leaned forward. There was so much passion, and it rolled off of her. Her eyes never broke contact while she clasped his hands. “You are special, Jesper Hilli.” She used his mother’s name, and it jolted him into hyper-awareness. “And you should believe it. Your beau, Wylan. Have him help us. Use your skills as a _Nabaluki_ to piece it back together, so that we may learn. You knew about the Rose. Come train with us when we are done teaching. See what we can offer for country and ancestors.”

Jes tried to think of what his mother would do. There wasn’t even a question about it. After all, she had killed herself to save a Zemeni child that Jesper didn’t even know. And didn’t want to know. It was unfair that his mother had died so that someone else could live, and he was surprised at the bitterness of his thoughts. But he did know what his mother would want. “I’ll go,” he said. He had no idea what he was jumping into now. But instead of being for the hell of it, like in Ketterdam, he was getting involved because it was the right thing to do.

Atiena smiled, and gave him a hug before standing up. She started writing on the whiteboard. “Pay attention today, you're going to be learning a lot too. Just make sure they don't start fighting.” She gazed into the distance. “Or chewing on things. You wouldn't believe what I've seen bored children eat.”


	6. Juju

_Dear Wy,_

_You’re going to love Novyi Zem. Did you know Novyi Zem is actually the Ravkan words? I didn’t. My new friends have been teaching me a lot - I hope you like them. Atiena and Sefu are a sister and brother. I actually work with Atiena now - she has a school. And they helped me get your visa pushed through. Atiena is so well-respected around here, I don’t even understand why. And everyone knows who she is. But they aren’t scared of her, not like Kaz. They would die for her. I’ve seen men and women professing their love to her. Sefu is funny, and kind. You’ll like him._

_Ol’Umoyana is safe again, but everyone is on alert. I’m okay. I’ve been shot at and bombed before, but the people around me are frightened. The university was closed for a week until they hired security. But when you come, we shall go out to the night market again. Do you like dancing? I like dancing, and I didn’t even know I liked dancing. And drugs just a little bit. Didn’t know that either._

_My father’s friend has a house to the south, on the beach. I figured we could go there for a few days alone, and get away from the city. I want you to myself. I can’t believe it will be four months when you’ve come here. Honestly, I love it here. And I hope you do too. My father has some cream, my mother’s recipe, that will keep you from being burned._

_I know I haven’t sent as many letters as I should, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you when you get here. Say hi to Mariya for me, and give her my love._

_Love you sunshine,  
Jes._

* * *

_Kaz,_

_No._

_\- Jesper Fahey_

* * *

_K._

_I was surprised to get your letter. Is there a safe way you could tell me more? How is life as a soldier?_

_\- Jesper_

* * *

Ever since the terror attack, the zowa of Nyota Heri were meeting in secret. Atiena brought Jesper to the new safe place, Sefu and Jes both keeping a tight grip on their guns. It was two more weeks until Wylan was supposed to be visiting, thanks to the siblings’ connections, and here he was getting involved in some new madness.

He was working tirelessly on the bomb, trying to piece it together, but he needed Wylan’s skills. Jesper needed the way that Wylan could put mathematics together, could see the space between parts like some sort of magic. So the hunk of metal sat at his bedside. 

They met on one of the farms near Ol’Umoyana, remote enough to keep it protected but nearby enough that people could meet. Jesper recognized some of the faces - the ones that helped after the bombing. Sefu was one of a few non-zowa, patrolling the perimeter of the farm. It was run by a charming married couple, two women with thick gray-white afros plaited down in ornate cornrows. 

“Let us know if you need anything Atiena,” the taller one said, putting a kiss on her cheek. 

The zowa spanned from teenagers to adults, but Jes had a hard time deciphering their ages. It was a sea of smooth black and brown skin. Most were Southeastern Zemenis, but he saw a few from other regions, tell-tale markings in their clothes and mannerisms. Atiena was dressed as casually as he ever saw her, in a geometric-pattern romper that showed a swath of skin. He noticed that a thin necklace was fabrikated around her neck. Had she always had that? 

“Is that an amplifier?” he whispered to her. 

She gave him a confused look. “Amplifier? What’s that?”

“Nevermind, I’ll explain later,” Jes replied, finding a cushion to sit on, cross-legged on the floor.

There were maybe three dozen people crammed into the small living area, and they would have moved outside if it weren't for safety concerns. Different Zemeni languages filtered through the air until Atiena stood up by the fireplace.

“Praise the ancestors,” she called out.

“Praise the ancestors,” the crowd repeated back. 

“We find ourselves in troubled times,” she started. “The eyes East of the sea are turning to Nyota Heri and what we have. Ship loads of foreigners come and try to take land that is ours by birth right, sweat, and blood. They seek to profit off of jurda and treat Zemenis like second class citizens in our own country.”

Her eyes hardened and Jes could feel her piercing gaze level at each person. “The Fjerdans have tanks and guns and religious fervor. The Ravkans steal away Zowa and condemn them to a life of military and blind patriotism, to a King that lies as easy as he breathes. The Kerch are gluttons for gold and would rather cripple a whole people. Our intelligence says they want to sink our ships with devil machines from our supposed allies in Ravka.

“We have guns now. And more than that, zowa have the support of people. The other countries seek to control their blessings, militarize them, or kill them. But Zemenis know that we cannot reject what our families have put into our blood. And when magic cannot win, we have bullets.”

Mutters of support clamored around Jesper and he found himself falling deeper into her words. “We need to shore up our defenses and be ready for whatever terrible thing is coming. I can feel it in my bones. I can hear my grandmother, one of the greatest Zowa of the last century, warning me. She tells me Atiena!” her voice sang high as she imitated her grandmother. “The time for being understanding is gone. Look where it got us. Our own people subjugated in the colonies and displaced from our land in the Colonies.” 

She went back to her normal voice. “We are the children of greats. We are still here. We played nice but now our only true allies are the Kaelish to the North. They too have seen their Zowa whispered away by Ravkan spies, buried away in the Little Palace instead of living free.”

Jesper was shocked. He remembered Nina - she spent time in the Isles. Is that what the Second Army did? Convince inexperienced children to fight for the Ravkan throne?

“We have been training in secret but now we need to train with dedication. With subterfuge. They dared to bring war to Nyota Heri, we will rain hellfire down on them.”

Applause thundered around him and Jesper felt the familiar cold grip of panic. These weren't faraway countries to him. They were Nina and Matthias and Inej. They were Wylan. And how could people like them come from such terrifying countries?

But then he remembered how Matthias was. How he _hated_ Zowa. Hated so much he killed as part of the drüskelle. Nina's fervor for Ravka and it's Second Army. How she learned languages to convince others to join Ravka. Did they hear from their families again? Where there Zemeni zowa far from home, slaving their powers to the tsar? He hoped they were okay.

Atiena, having said her peace, let Sefu start organizing the meetings, and documenting who had resources available. 

“Atiena!” Jesper called out. She was standing by herself for once, instead of surrounded by various admirers. She waved him over, casually leaning against the wall.

She looked worn out and worried. But for the first time he realized how young she was. Despite all the hats she wore and situations she navigated, she liked to party and dance, and slipped him a feel-good drug at the Night Market. 

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

Atiena chuckled. “You already asked dear. No I do not mind. I'm twenty-three. Sefu is nineteen.”

“Do you believe everything you say? Are Ravka and Fjerda evil?”

“I do believe it. They have made refugees of their own people. They are entrenched in old attitudes while the world is changing. They see us far beneath them, until they need something from us.” She slid her eyes towards him. “Ask what you really want to ask.”

“What about the refugees? More and more people have been coming into the port. They shouldn't be punished.”

“Of course not,” Atiena replied. “They are hoping for something new and better. They can have that here. In do not like insolent men who try to steal our homes in sneaky ways because they heard we are not intelligent. Simple farmers.” She shook her head. “It is not easy. What else is on your mind?”

“I had friends from there. In Ketterdam. I had friends from Fjerda and Ravka. And they liked me. And I liked them. I don't want to think of them as an enemy.”

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Oh Jesper. Come with me.” She reached down and grabbed his fingers and tugged him outside, away from the bustle. 

“A few years ago I was engaged,” she said. “To a Ravkan man. He was beautiful and kind and I met him when he was here on a diplomatic mission. He was going to move here after the war was over.” She cleared her throat. “The war never ended for him. Battlefields are hungry beasts that desire nothing more than the blood of innocents. For a war he didn't care about, or for, and a King who sat idly by.”

Jesper would have imagined Atiena with a hardworking Zemeni man. Not a Ravkan soldier and diplomat. 

“The point is Jesper, we love who we love. And the sins of a country are not the sins of its people. If your friends treat you and your country well, and stand up for what is right, then that is what matters. Only you can make that decision.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Did that help?”

He nodded. “I have one more question.”

Atiena waited expectantly. 

“The necklace you're wearing. What does it do?”

She instinctively touched it. “It's my talisman. It taps my Zowa powers into those of my ancestors to make me stronger.” A serene smile touched her lips. “It's like I can hear them if I'm quiet enough. They can only be given by an ancestor that has passed.”

“So they leave it in a will?”

Atiena smiled and he stared at the gap between her teeth. It was charming. “No. They come back as an animal. They give their lives to you and then you're reunited with all the generations of your family.” 

Jesper thought. That sounded like an amplifier. “How do you know it's your ancestor ready to give themselves?”

“It's the eyes. Like staring into a being centuries old. And so familiar. I know it sounds crazy but I saw my grandma's eyes in the leopard.”

“A leopard?” Jes asked. “It doesn't have to be a rare or old creature? Special in some way?”

“What could he more special than family?” Atiena asked, amused. “But no. I just knew this leopard was different.”

That was different than what he knew. He heard the whispers of Ravkans hunting all corners of the continent to find a rare creature and take their blood, and he told that to Atiena.

“How barbaric,” she laughed. “What a waste of beautiful creatures. In Nyota Heri, when your ancestors deem you worthy, you gain their support.”

Jes wondered if he was Zemeni enough to gain their support.

“Ilya said Ravkans were more scared of old ghosts, than the ghosts they were creating.” Ilya must have been her fiancé. 

“He must have been special to catch your eye. You have high standards for kids, I can't imagine someone you'd marry.”

“He was extraordinary. I'll show you a picture sometime.”

Jes wondered if Ilya knew Nina at all. Would have been older than her, but his world was so strangely connected. He would never know. 

“Sefu said you're a good singer,” Atiena said. “Is that true?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a liar,” she grinned, and pulled out some jurda to smoke, rolling it into a piece of rice paper. “Sefu told me you were singing in Kaelish. Will you sing for me? I'm so tired,” she said.

Jesper smiled. It was hard to say no to her.

After his mom passed, he heard his father singing sad Kaelish ballads that he didn't understand. So he convinced his dad's half Kaelish friend Jammo to teach him the language and some of the songs.

One of his favorites was _Fear a’ Bháta_ and he cleared his throat before trying not to sing too loud. 

“ _Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile_  
Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile  
Fhir a' bhàta, na hóro eile  
Mo shoraidh slàn leat 's gach àit' an téid thu

 _'S tric mi sealltainn on chnoc as àirde_  
Dh'fheuch am faic mi fear a' bhàta  
An tig thu 'n-diugh na 'n tig thu màireach  
'S mar tig thu idir gur truagh a ta mi”

He sang a couple more verses before trailing off, heat coming to his face. Sefu was leaning a ways down, smile on his face, and Atiena had her eyes closed, swaying slightly with the best.

“Was that for Ilya? It sounded sad,” Atiena asked.

“Most Kaelish love songs are sad.”

“Lets get you home Jesper Hilli-Fahey,” she said. “We have work to do.”

* * *

Jesper worked on the farm from daybreak until noon, helped Atiena at the school for a couple hours in the evening, and then trained at night. He wasn't used to such hard and intensive labor day in and out. But it was refreshing. Working under the open sky with his father was so different from rainy, dreary Ketterdam. Sefu gave him food from his stand for lunch, and his Da always kept some warm food on the stove and cool drinks in the ice box.

He shot firearms at impossible targets with other Nabaluki, and trained with a charming elder who poked fun at him for his impatience. He was honing his Zowa powers into something he was proud of.

Jes saw how genius Atiena was - she was able to navigate all these different people and convince them that her cause was a worthy one. Hell, Jesper believed it was worth getting involved again. Because unlike the Dregs, he felt he was doing something good, and something bigger than himself. 

A Nabaluki sent a clay target flying into the air and he shot it from 100 yards away, perfect shot. It grinned as it shattered into tiny pieces. 

“I didn’t think pistols shot that far,” a skinny zowa around his age commented. 

“They usually don’t,” he said. “But they can.” 

Jes did it again, getting some appreciative applause from the others working on guns. Then it was time for them to switch, and he went to the area where Sefu was training in hand-to-hand combat against other zowa. He had stripped off his shirt and Jesper appreciated the view before tucking it away in the back of his head.  
“Jes!” Sefu said, waving him over. “You ready?”

He shrugged. Hand-to-hand was still his weakness. It was easy to take people down with a bullet, when you couldn’t see them. But Jes was long and lean and didn’t have the weight and willpower in close quarters. But Sefu was changing that. The Zemeni didn’t hold anything back when he charged at the zowa, dodging their attacks and striking in places that restricted their ability.

Sefu explained how attacking different areas would work better on different zowa. “If all else fails,” he said, “A good throat punch will do.”

He explained that for zowa like Atiena, you aimed for the heart. Nabaluki and other ‘weavers’, you aimed at the shoulders to make the arms useless. Sefu delivered a vicious punch to Jesper’s collarbone and shoulder joint with a fighting stick, and he felt how useless his zowa abilities were. It was like they were stunted, and he couldn’t use them properly until an umphulukisi fixed it up. 

“What the _hell_ was that?!” he wheezed at Sefu. 

Sefu wiped sweat off his forehead and grinned, shaking his locs down from their ponytail. “Effective. I grew up with a sister who was stronger, and could kill me with a snap of her fingers. I had to learn everything I could.”

“How did you learn all that? Zowa-fighting school?”

“No. Books.” Sefu put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder and massaged where he took the brunt of the hits. Even though a healer already saw Jes, he didn’t mind and let him work on it. “I read books and then started testing it on Atiena’s friends dumb enough to let me. The day I made her fall over and wheeze was payback for all the times she made me pass out.”

Despite everything Jesper did - going to University early, taking on the Fjerdan government, causing hell in Ketterdam and becoming on the most wanted list - it didn’t seem nearly as fulfilling as what Sefu and Atiena did. He wondered what life would be like if at sixteen he had enrolled at University in Ol’Umoyana instead of Ketterdam. Maybe he wouldn’t be eighteen and trying to figure out who he was. Zowa. Zemeni. Kaelish. Thief and murderer. Farmer. And now, a rebel? But ultimately, it felt right.


	7. Uholanzi

Jes waited at the docks with flowers in his hand, waiting for the ship to finish anchoring, and the giant ramps to come down. Squallers - called _umoya lomlilo_ in Zemeni - were visible at the bows. He figured there were also the _ukuletha umvula_ , or Tidemakers, also on board. Together they would have kept the ship safe and moving quickly across the sea. Especially since from Atiena’s warnings, there were enemies looking.

The multi-national crowd exited, and Jes craned his head to get a good look. Finally, he saw a peek of strawberry-blonde curls in the crowd, and he waved his hands frantically.

“Wylan!” he shouted. It was useless, so he began shoving his way through the various people. “Wylan! Over here!”

When Wylan turned to him, his heart skipped a beat. He looked just the same as Jesper remembered - but now he was sweating profusely and carrying a bunch of bags and a flute case. He grinned and swept him up in a tight hug.

“Jesper!” he said, right before Jesper planted a kiss on his lips. “Saints! Its you!”

Jesper grabbed some of Wylan’s bags, shouldering the bulk while Wylan wiped his forehead. “You’re so dark,” he said. “And your hair is so long.” Jesper leaned down, offering Wylan a chance to touch it. It was a lot longer now. Even the sides that used to be a low fade were generous thick curls, the top flopping around. He had a playful kitenge headband tied around it, with a plain white fitted shirt and shorts.

“Lets get you some water,” Jesper said. He stared at Wylan. There he was. In Novyi Zem. So out of place. Is that what he looked like in Ketterdam? Surrounded by different faces? “And then we need to get you registered at the Embassy.”

They walked through the market, holding Wylan's stuff, and Jesper pointed out the places and people he knew. “You have to try this. It's juice from coconut and bush mango together. Fresh.” 

Jesper watched the way Wylan’s eyes lit up. “This is amazing.”

“Just like you,” Jesper said. Any doubts he had about Wylan, with the ocean between them, seemed to disappear now that he was right in front of him.  
Zemenis looked at them with mild interest as they slowly made their way to the trolley that would take them to the Kerch embassy in Ol’Umoyana, but mostly tried to get Wylan to pay extra money, until Jes glared at them. 

“I didn’t realize the cities looked like this,” Wylan said, glancing at the buildings, steam vehicles, and shops. “We just learn that Novyi Zem is a farming land.”

“It was, thirty years ago.” Jesper was proud. “That’s where the music store is, we should go there before you leave. We have plenty of time.”

Wylan was staying for at least a month, and could stay up to three months according to the tourism visa. The Kerch embassy made Jes think of Ketterdam. It was austere, and slate gray with the narrow facades favored by the Kerch. Inside the building, the two of them had their papers looked over. 

“You were a student at Ketterdam University?” one asked Jesper. “Why didn’t you stay?”

Jes shrugged. The question made him uncomfortable. “Because I’m Zemeni, my Da lives here.” They seemed to take that, and then directed Jes to the waiting area while Wylan went to speak with someone. Jes looked at the various stuff, fighting the urge not to snoop. It was disrespectful. 

It took an hour of waiting until Wylan finally came back out, looking haggard. “Is everything okay?”

“That was a bureaucratic _nightmare_ Jes.” Wylan let out an unholy groan and Jesper couldn’t help but laugh. “They asked me so many questions. Said it was required by the Foreign Affairs branch? It would have been easier to go through the Southern Colonies.”

Jesper frowned. “That’s not a good thing, Wy.”

He quirked his head, eyebrows knit together. “Why not?”

“We don’t like the Colonies here. Ravka isn’t… isn’t doing good things.” He cleared his throat. “We can talk about it later. But people won’t take it well if you say that flippantly.”

He shrugged, and Jesper’s mouth quirked. It wasn’t a big deal, not many people knew the politics between the two countries. But now the two of them could make their way back to the farm, where Colm excitedly had dinner waiting for them. 

By the time they arrived, Wylan looked ready to pass out, but Colm swept him into a fatherly hug. “Wylan, my boy. Good to see you again.”

“Hi Mr. Fahey. Thanks for letting me stay.” Colm beamed and it made Jesper happy that his Da approved of his boyfriend.

“No mind at all. But you'll have your own bedroom while you're here.” Colm winked and Jesper groaned. “Let me grab your bags and show you the guest room. Dinner is just about ready.”

Wylan's room was right next to Colm's, with a big window that looked out towards the ocean. 

“It's beautiful here,” he said. Jesper looked at the way his curly hair drank the sunlight, turning more golden in the sunset, and as he squinted his eyes, made the blue translucent. When Colm went out to the kitchen, Jesper put a gentle finger under his chin and pulled him into another kiss.

It was gentle and Jes had to hold back, scared of the fact he wanted to pull Wylan tight and never let go. He was the only thing good about Ketterdam, and now everything he loved was in one place. 

When they parted, he grinned like an idiot. “I have to kiss you know before I smell like shit tomorrow.”

“Sweat isn't that bad -”

“I mean literal shit. I shovel the stables out.”

Wylan wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

Dinner was pleasant, and they spent hours talking until Wylan fell asleep on Jesper's shoulder. But at daybreak he was up again, carrying food out to the horses and shoveling. By the time he bathed and dressed for the day, Wylan was up and refreshed, chatting with Colm. 

“You didn't have to do all that Jes,” his Da said when he came in. “You two should enjoy your day.”

“It was nothing,” he said. It felt strange to be speaking Kerch, after not speaking the language for such a long time. But Wylan didn't know Zemeni or Kaelish. The harah consonants and extended double vowels felt odd on his tongue. “I wanted to before we went out.”

“What do you boys have planned?” He asked, scooping fried eggs onto their plates. 

“I'm going to take him into town, and we're going to meet up with Atiena and Sefu.”

“Give them my regards. And tell Atiena I have some concentrated jurda for her.” 

“You mentioned them in your letter,” Wylan said. “What do they do?” 

“Atiena teaches children and does hair. She also carves guns. She's also like of a community organizer in the Ol'Umoyana suburbs. She organized all the patrols to keep farms safe. And they've been working.” Colm gave a knowing smile. He was also a beneficiary of the services. “Sefu is her brother. He has a food stand.”

“Good food?”

“Mouthwatering,” Jes replied. 

They went to the nearest station and caught a ride into the city. Jes was glad it didn't take as long as it used to. The entire way, Jes talked about the farm and asked about Wylan. How Mariya was doing, his flute lessons, redoing the house. But they didn't talk about the Dregs. Or Kaz. They could do that when they were finally alone. Jesper held his hand, and made sure to bring an extra bottle of the sun lotion. 

Atiena and Sefu were waiting for them at the station. She was standing on her tip toes, waving at them enthusiastically.

“Hello Wylan!” she said in awkward Kerch. “Good meet you!” She looked exasperated already at the language barrier. 

“I can translate,” Jesper told her in Zemeni. 

>Jesper has told us about you. We're happy to meet his boyfriend.< She said, and Jes quickly translated. 

>I've heard about you too.< Wylan looked so small and pale compared to the two in front of him. He was dressed in a long sleeve linen shirt and shorts, so very Kerch compared to the bright patterns on the siblings. >I’m kind of intimidated,< he confessed.

Sefu laughed when Jesper finished the sentence. >Don’t be intimidated. She snores and drools in her sleep.< That earned him a swift punch to the stomach.

“I’ve always wanted a sibling, but now I don’t think so,” he whispered to Wylan. The four of them walked to a shop that served traditional southeastern Zemeni food, Jesper trying to keep up between the different languages. It was exhausting, and Atiena used what basic Kerch she knew, although there were many mistakes, and Wylan accepted them graciously. Sefu mostly listened and looked at them with laughter in his eyes. He dwarfed Wylan in both height and build. Atiena was closer to Wylan’s height but still had a couple inches on him. Jes wondered what Kaz would look like standing next to these tall, beautiful Zemeni people. Not nearly as powerful or intimidating.

Jes taught Wylan how to scoop the food with chapati and eat it with hands, and they stuffed themselves full of fried plantains for dessert. Jesper talked nonstop but instead of nonsensical rambling, he translated at lightning-speed for Wylan and his friends. It was refreshing, being able to speak but not needing to think much about it. There was no pressure to be entertaining when the conversation carried itself so well. They asked Wylan about playing his flute, demolitions, and life in Ketterdam. All while avoiding sensitive topics. Jesper held Wylan’s beautiful musician hands underneath the table and felt at peace.

When they couldn’t eat anymore and still be able to move, Jesper settled the tab and said goodbye to the siblings. 

“Bye Wylan, see later!” Atiena chirped in her broken Kerch. Sefu gave a smile and nod, and they headed their way.

They went to the music store, which was filled with beautiful hand-crafted instruments. Wylan was immediately drawn to the flutes, and picked out a gorgeous tambin to take home. Then they found a ledge by the boardwalk and dangled their legs over the side, looking at the bustle of Zemeni life below.

“The ocean is so blue,” Wylan said. “That sounds dumb but - its really blue. Bright blue, and then darker out on the horizon. I’ve only seen the gray dirty water in Ketterdam, and the black-blue in Fjerda. This is so different.”

“Novyi Zem is different,” Jes replied. He played with Wylan’s fingers, sipping on pineapple juice with his free hand. 

“And no one cares if I can’t read, because I couldn’t read Zemeni anyway!” he laughed. 

Jesper looked at the angles of his face. A sharp cupid’s bow on a thin upper lip, and the smallest up-turn of his nose that he found adorable. Even a day in the sun made his freckles stand out, and there was pink flushing the bridge of his nose and cheeks. “Nyota Heri looks good on you?”

Wylan turned to him. “Nyota Heri?”

“Yeah. That’s what they call Novyi Zem here. Well, the younger Zemenis.” 

“That’s strange.”

“Not really,” Jesper replied. “Kerch is called Uholanzi in Zemeni. Novyi and Zem are Ravkan words. Ravka colonized and stole land in the South, and treats foreign-born Ravkans better than the Zemeni majority. That’s why people don’t like Ravka. Fjerda has been building churches to Djel and that also upsets Zemeni people, especially when they spread propaganda about zowa.” Jesper shrugged. He didn’t really see himself as political until he came back home. “But whatever. I’m ready to go to the beach.”

“Who’s place is it again?” Wylan asked, taking the cue to change the subject, although Jesper saw a distinct pout.

“My Da’s friend. When he moved here, Da worked on his farm and then bought it from him. He owns a few homes around Novyi Zem since he works for the government, including this gorgeous beach area.”

“Just us?”

“Just us,” Jesper said with a smile.


	8. Float

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Oshun and Moonlight (2016) for inspiration

Even though Wylan must have been tired of traveling, they packed small bags for five days and traveled down the coast. The new steam train that roared its way seemed so close to the cliffs that it might fall over, but it powered through. They would climb over each other to look out the window, the endless expanse of aquamarine water.

At the small, barely-there train station where they disembarked, Jes saw Jammo waiting for them. 

“Jesper! Son!” he cried out in Kaelish, and then swept him up into a big hug and kissed his forehead. Jammo, a nickname for James, was also half Zemeni and half Kaelish. Jesper looked up to him as a child, and he was his father’s best friend. “You’ve grown like jurda since I last saw you. And this must be your boyfriend, Colm wrote about him.” He switched to Kerch. “Nice to meet you young man. I have a ride waiting for you.”

He had a horse-drawn open carriage, with two sturdy steeds Jesper admired. Jammo asked about Ketterdam, and life there. Wylan expertly dodged any implication of gang life in the Dregs. 

The beach house was quaint, with a thatched straw roof reinforced, and no window covers on the windows. But it was quiet, had a room, kitchen, living room, and wash room, and outside there were hammocks to lay down in and a coal grill. The lapping sound of waves was soothing, and Jammo mentioned there was a market down the road they could shop at.

Jesper immediately made himself comfortable on a hammock, the breeze of the ocean coming over him. It was different than the business of Ol’Umoyana and it was different than the farm too. On the farm, they would hear the wild crashes of waves against the cliffs, thunderous at night and powerful. Here the waves were calmer, softly running against the shore and inviting them to come in.

“I didn’t think places like this existed,” Wylan said, staring out at the water. “And its so hot. Why is it so hot?”

“Probably because I’m here,” Jesper teased. But he did sit back up to help put away their things. Wylan wanted some room. And despite his better judgement, he did bring the hunk of metal from the bomb and set it gently against one of the walls in the living room. The bed was stiff but not bad, and there was very little in the way of decoration. He could smell the saltwater wafting in through the windows, and when he peered out of one, saw some fishermen boat in the distance. 

“Why don’t you put on some swim shorts, and we can get in the water?” Jes asked. “It’ll feel a lot better.”

“Fine, but I don’t know how to swim so I’m not going far.”

You never learned in Kerch? No swimming holes at summer homes?”

Wylan frowned. “No. And who would teach me?”

Jesper felt guilty. That was true. He didn’t imagine either Mariya or Jan getting into the water and teaching little Wylan how to swim. His mother and father tossed him into the water at a young age and helped him learn to float, how to swim. Being back home made his memories of his mother so much clearer - like they were tied into the land. He wondered again whether he actually wanted to return to Ketterdam. The desire hadn’t struck him at all, except for when he missed Wylan.

“I could probably teach you to float,” he said. “Given your undying and unwavering trust in me.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Wylan responded, but Jes caught the smile on his face. They changed into the quick-drying swim shorts sold all over Novyi Zem, and went to the ocean. Jesper remembered this was the same ocean that reached all the way to Kerch, to Fjerda, to Ravka. These were the same waters that Inej was sailing on, trying to stop injustice. Jesper decided that Inej would love Sefu and Atiena. She liked doing the right thing, and even separated from the Dregs and Kaz to do so. 

Jesper admired that about her, and he really needed to write a letter back to her. Atiena was going to be competing in Daughters of Novyi Zem soon - it was almost midsummer. Atiena and Inej would probably be able to conquer the world together and rid it of all the demons. Maybe Nina too, but last he heard, Nina had gone full monarchy. The same monarchy that had colonized the stolen lands. Kuwei was over there too, but Kuwei had sent him that cryptic warning, and he was looking forward to the Shu’s response.

All the old Dregs were scattered on the other side of this ocean, except Wylan now. And Jesper realized he was okay with it. 

The ocean was so different than freezing Fjerda - it was cool enough to feel good but warm enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. They held hands and went up to Wylan’s waist, the water hitting Jesper’s hips. There wasn’t anyone in sight - just the fishing boats in the distance. Wylan let out a sigh of relief. 

“Its so calm The water is so clear.” He dipped his hands under the surface and brought it up, watching it drip back down. “Its like a painting.”

“I keep forgetting how beautiful Nyota Heri is,” Jesper replied. “My mom said she would never want to leave. And my Da fell in love too. And I think I’m falling in love too.” Growing up, he hadn’t appreciated it. It was just the place where his mom died and they were sad. But since he came back, Colm wasn’t as devoted to his grief. Life moved on. The farm was fluorishing. And there were people here who respected him and valued his opinion. Other than school, he wasn’t missing out on much. And he could go to University in Ol’Umoyana. He already had a job.

But Wylan.

Wylan, who was next to him, splashing water around and creeping deeper. He didn’t quite fit the tropical paradise. But he did fit in next to Jesper.

“Teach me how to float,” he whined, and Jesper grinned. Remembering his old lessons with his mom, he helped Wylan onto his back. His strawberry blonde waves were cascading around his face, still pink but less pink than it was his very first day on the continent. Wylan’s blue eyes reflected the sky, the sea, the world around them.

“You have to relax your body. If you tighten your muscles, you’re just going to sink. And your lungs are full of air, so that’s what’s going to help keep you up,” Jesper instructed. He felt as Wylan slowly calmed his breathin, taking deep regular breaths and closing his eyes. When Jesper trusted him to float on his own, he took his hands away and swam backwards.

The moment Wylan realized Jesper wasn’t next to him, he panicked and started to sink again, bringing his feet to the sand below.

“Why did you let go?!” he yelled. His hair was slick against his face, the opposite of Jesper’s which had thick water droplets on it but defied gravity all the same. But then Wylan smiled. “Wait. I was floating by myself wasn’t I?”

“Yeah you were,” Jesper responded. He licked his lips, which tasted like salt. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing, I’m not some sort of idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Wylan shot back. But Jes somehow didn’t believe it. Not when he was on an allowance. When the Dregs still tried to control everything about his life. _Not the dregs,_ he reminded himself. _Kaz. Kaz wants to control everything._

Jesper shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, you don’t trust me with money.”

Wylan pinched his eyebrows together. “What? Because you had a gambling problem? Of course we were worried about you having a problem with a lot of money. We didn’t want you to throw it away!”

“Who’s we?” he asked. Even though he knew.

Wylan’s mouth fell into a thin line. “All of us, just -”

“Stop protecting him. He doesn’t need protection.”

“Fine. It was Kaz’s idea.”

“And you went along with it?” Jesper let out an exasperated sigh. “Its not his business. He said he didn’t even really want anything to do with me - that I betrayed him. So why should you listen to him? Why have him control my money, write our letters, talk to him about me at all?” 

“Where is this coming from?” Wylan looked confused. “He’s our friend -”

“No, he’s your friend. I used to think he was my friend until he cut me out. He used me. He made me feel horrible and he knew how I felt about him, and what I was. Dropping out of university was my fault, but I’m not going to be at his beck and call anymore.” Jesper shook his head. “My Da agrees. He can’t rule me anymore.”

“But,” Wylan’s shoulders sagged. “But Kaz rules the barrel. How can you come back to Ketterdam and avoid him?”

There it was. The question. The big question. The question that was looming over everything, and Wylan’s whole visit. “I don’t know if I can go back,”Jesper said honestly. “I’m happier here. I’m happiest with you but in Ketterdam I feel horrible. I remember all my mistakes. And Kaz will never let me forget them.” He thought of his knew friends. “People like me here. Did you know I can speak three Zemeni languages, Kerch, and Kaelish fluently? I speak more than Nina even. I’m conversational in Ravkan. I got into Ketterdam University when I was fifteen. I’m smart, too. I might fuck up but I’m smart, and I can shoot a gun, and people _like_ me.”

“But I love you,” Wylan said softly. 

Jes couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I love you too. But don’t you see what it’s like?” He pleaded, reaching forward to grab Wylan’s hands. “You’re the only person who looks like you. People stare. People make comments, and the language isn’t your own. That’s every day for me in Ketterdam. In the Dregs. Every day, for over two years. Did you know that I like working on the farm? I didn’t until now. Just…” he trailed off. “Give me time. Nyota Heri needs me, and I can help. I’m not a gangster or one of Kaz’s thugs. I’m doing something good.”

Wylan stayed quiet. “I’ll try,” he said. “I have a question though. And… I trust you. But I need to know, what did Kuwei write you?” he asked. “That letter. What did it say?”

Jes breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to get into some screaming match. Not here. “He warned me that Ravka had an eye on our jurda fields, and to be careful. That was it. Just a warning.”

Wylan took it into stride, and then leaned backwards. “I want to float again.”

* * * 

They were quiet and contemplative the rest of the night. There weren’t any right words to fill the space so Jesper filled it with acts of love instead. He cuddled Wylan in the hammock while he read a book on jurda farming, and made dinner while he practiced the flute. He fired up the stove while arpeggios and scales started in the background, slowly giving way to repertoire by great Kerch and Ravkan composers. Jes knew very little about it, only what Wylan had taught him about music. He wondered if Atiena would have them over someday, to listen to records. He had only been to her apartment once - a surprisingly spacious loft in Ol’Umoyana that was paid by her parents. 

They ate the fried and seasoned fish with wild rice and fruit, and Jes was proud of himself. Colm did a lot of the cooking, but he wanted to do more work himself. To pull his weight. And, it was rewarding the way Wylan’s eyes lit up at the food, and he cleared his plate.

“That was delicious,” Wylan said. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I didn’t know either until last month,” Jesper responded. “I’m still learning.” 

Wylan cleaned the dishes up, and Jesper fought the different emotions inside him. He was content and happy with Wylan, but there was trouble brewing. There was no denying that. The different parts of his identity were roaring up inside him - Zemeni and Kaelish. Ol’Umoyana and Ketterdam. Atiena’s Revolutionaries and Kaz’s Dregs. And he wanted it all, but it was unraveling. Some parts could coexist. His father and Nyota Heri. Here, he never felt bad for being half-Kaelish but in Ketterdam, they never saw that part of him. He was defined only by his otherness.

And torn between the two was Jesper and his relationship with Wylan and the world. “I need some air, I think I’m going to go onto the beach,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”

“In a bit,” Wylan said. “I’m going to practice a little more. My flute keeps expanding in the heat and going out of tune. Maybe playing it will help.”

“Never hurts to blow on something,” Jesper teased, and ran out of the house before anything could get thrown at him. 

Now the air was balmy. Not the sticky heat of the day, but slightly warm with a nice breeze. Jesper closed his eyes and listened to everything around him. The water, the slightly rustle of palm trees. The distant sound of Wylan’s flute. When he finally opened his eyes he studied the moonlight on the water and the night sky on his brown skin. 

He touched that Zemeni skin, lightened only a little by his father’s ancestry. He thought about Sefu and Atiena, how they drank moonlight and sunlight like it was lotion. It was beautiful. He couldn’t figure out why he was so melancholy, sitting on the beach with his lanky legs tucked up to his chin, fingers tracing nonsensical shapes into the sand.

Jesper reminded himself that Atiena, the most militant and outspoken of them all, had been engaged to a Ravkan named Ilya. Ilya, who’s blood was left on a battlefield. Jesper bled in the streets of Ketterdam, maybe that was his version of a battlefield, and someone new was sitting on the beach in this beautiful coastal town.

“Hi,” Wylan said, sitting next to him on the beach. Jesper leaned over and placed his head on top of Wylan’s. 

“You sound good in there,” he responded. 

“Thanks. Its weird practicing here. It reminds me of the Kerch countryside. No people yelling or gun shots or market noises.”

“I was just thinking about that,”Jesper smiled. 

“Is Kaz the reason why you won’t come back?” Wylan finally asked again. “Why you’re avoiding Kerch?”

Jesper scratched the back of his head, and ran his hands through the thick curls. “Its not as simple as that. It's that he hates me. And even if he doesn’t hate me, he treats me badly. My new friends taught me that. Atiena includes me in decision making. She trusts me, and what I have to say. Sefu always asks how I’m doing. He seems genuinely interested. They care about my father, they ask how you’re doing. They don’t try to make me feel bad.”

“Does he really do that to you?” Wylan asked. “He’s hard on everybody and -”

“It's more than being hard on me. You’ve at least seen him be kind and encourage you. Its different with me. And now that I won’t listen to him, I’m not any use to him.”

“He keeps asking about you. He told me I’m supposed to make you want to come back.”

“Then he can say it himself.”

Wylan thought about this. “So all this time since Fjerda, you felt that way? That Kaz was manipulating you?”

“He manipulates everyone. But there was something good in how he treated you. And Inej. And Nina. He even mourned Matthias, in his way. But no. There was a like a wall between us and he used the fact that. Well.” He hated this part of him. This secret. “That I was in love with him to get whatever he wanted. And it wasn’t right. And I’m not okay with that. Not anymore.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Wylan said. “He’s my friend. And my boss.”

“I know.”

“But I believe you.”

“I know.”

“And I love you.”

“I know.”

“So where does that leave us?” Wylan asked.


	9. Jammo & Hadiyah

Working on the farm meant that Jes was used to waking up with the sun. His sleep had been fitful and now he was surly, squinting at the sunbeam that managed to pierce right into his eyes. He quietly slipped out of bed and washed his face in a basin, deciding to take a long walk into the grocer market and get some fruit. He walked half a mile before a friendly-looking woman in a rickshaw picked him up, driving him the rest of the way. 

He wandered the market fruitlessly until he saw a hole-in-the-wall bar that already had a few customers, laughing over their Zemeni beer and shooting the shit. Curious, Jesper wandered in. There were no real walls to it, just wooden pillars supporting the awning, a bar, alcohol displayed behind it, and palm trees bent by zowa to provide shade.

“What can I get you white boy?” shouted the barback with a flirty smile. Jes didn’t mind her comment at this point - there wasn’t any malice. 

“Anything that isn’t poison,” he shouted back in flawless southern Zemeni, and that was the end of that. Once people knew he wasn’t a tourist with a bad accent or insisting they spoke another language, locals relaxed. She pulled out a mug and filled it with a fragrant drink. It didn’t have much alcohol in it, but it was delicious.

“Its morning - because of tourists we don’t sell anything stronger until evening,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“I live near Ol’Umoyana,” he said. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

She nodded, and he ordered some fruit served in half a coconut, picking at it and staring at the people who were going about the market. As the sun stretched higher, more people came and the empty glasses in front of him built up. He built a pleasant buzz even though he knew he should get back to Wylan at the beach house. 

He noticed there were some men down on the other end boasting about their shooting skills. His Ketterdam years raised their ugly head and Jesper swiveled to them. “Wanna place some money on it?” 

It was dangerous, but the words were out before he could stop them. One wager wouldn’t hurt. They agreed and the barback pointed to the shooting and darts area. The man Jesper was shooting against was maybe ten or fifteen years older, with short locs a few inches long and a clean face. Something about him bothered Jes but he pulled out his pistols. He now owned four beauties, and carried one of the new ones he bought from Atiena and one of his older pearl-handled ones.

He was a crackshot, Jes had to admit. The bullet of his competitor barely missed the bullseye, but they were going for best two out of three, and Jes was playing a long game. He purposefully aimed just a little farther, for all three shots. 

“Double or nothing,” he said, putting desperation in his voice. The alcohol helped. And this time, he got all three shots right dead center. “I’ll take the coins,” he said, holding out a hand and batting his eyelashes.

“Fuck you mean?” bit back the man. Jes blinked in surprised. “You set me up.”

“I got lucky,” Jes replied, giving a dazzling grin. It usually worked. But it faltered when the glare deepened, and he desperately continued with a joke. “I’ll take a kiss instead.”

The man pointed his pistol at him. “Stay away from me, _matudzi istabane_ ,” he bit out. 

Heat coursed up his neck and ears, and Jes only saw red. Before the man could aim the pistol and cock it, Jesper leapt at him and grabbed the gun, zowa powers coursing through him untitl he bent the metal like it was nothing. A fist connected with his head and colors burst, but he snatched the gun away and used the dilapidated metal to deliver a blow to the side of his head. The two hit the ground and Jes straddled him, pinning him with one hand and railing with the others.

“Get off me!” The man shouted, as people around them yelled for them to stop. But Jesper didn’t care, even as blood began to show.

“Shut up when this _istabane_ is speaking,” he growled. 

“I’m sorry! Stop!”

Jes had no intention of stopping until someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off the floor. The bigot on the ground was a bloody swollen mess, and Jes still managed to spit on his chest. He swung around ready to yell at whoever stopped him, until he realized who it was. Face to face with Jammo, Jes felt the anger seep out of him, and he was suddenly aware of the cuts and redness on his knuckles. Jammo’s deep brown eyes, however, were full of rage. 

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

Jammo dragged him down the street, away from the crowd, and towards the beach. When they finally stopped, he shoved Jes. “What the hell was that Jesper Llewelyn?! I know Colm didn’t raise you to get into bar fights and spit on people.” 

He crossed his arms, trying to stare at some indiscernable landmark beyond Jammo. But then the man grabbed Jes’ chin and made him look him in the eye. “Your mother would be ashamed.”

Jes slapped Jammo’s hand away. “I wouldn’t know! She’s not here!” He raked his hand through his hair and twisted a curl around his finger. 

Jammo’s face softened. “I’m sorry Jesper. I know. But I saw you beating that man and - well. You’re my godson. Colm is like a brother to me. Why were you doing that?”

“He called me _matudzi istabane_ ,” Jes mumbled, shame creeping into his chest and traveling down to his stomach. 

Jammo frowned. Rotten words for what Jes was - because of who he loved. They probably heard him talking to the bartender about Wylan. “I’m sorry Jes. You are not unacceptable. Ever.” Jammo quirked his mouth. “Nevermind. Your mother would probably be proud.” Jes laughed and hugged the older man. “Oh we missed you while you were in Ketterdam. Are you okay son?”

Jes shook his head, and Jammo put his arms around him. “I’ll give you a ride back to the house. Why don’t you and Wylan join my wife and I this afternoon? Did I tell you she’s expecting?”

* * *

Jammo’s wife Hadiyah was happy to dote on the two boys. Wylan was quiet about their fight, and looked curiously at Jesper’s now-bandaged hands, but Hadiyah was in love with the merchling. She was a Northern Zemeni woman with a golden brown complexion, light brown eyes, and long curly hair pulled back with a scarf. Her hands rested on her very pregnant belly and she listened to Wylan play the flute. 

Jes was put to work climbing up their palm trees for coconuts and cooking with Jammo. The older man was a firm believer in hard work, and apparently knew Colm before he ever met his mother. Kaelish was his natural language so they conversed, the lyrical words coming easier the longer they talked. 

“Does Wylan speak Kaelish?” Jammo asked. 

“No. Does Hadiyah?”

“No.” he paused. “You were always a scrappy kid but never like that. What happened? I know what happened then, but with you? Something seems not right.”

Jes wasn't sure how to respond. Colm and Jammo were horrible gossips. “I didn't think people still used words like that.”

“It's been worse,” Jammo said. “There's a new Fjerdan missionary not far from here. They preach terrible things about purity and women being submissive.” he looked at Hadiyah. “They don't look too kindly upon your relationship either.”

Atiena's words rang in his ear. About poison seeping in from the other countries. With violent words. And how these people were different from refugees. From people who truly needed an escape. “Why are they here?” He asked. 

“Speaking the word of Djel. I think they can shove it where the sun doesn't shine,” he snorted. “But be careful. Some Zemenis fall for it. Your father told me you were there when the club was bombed.”

“Yeah,” Jesper said. He frowned and went to work cracking open the coconuts with his gift. 

Jammo stared. “You're zowa?”

Jes nodded. “Da never told you?” 

He shook his head. “I guess Colm can keep secrets. But you're alright? After the bombing?”

“Yes. I swear. My friends were there and we were able to help people. I liked that, helping people.” They survived because of him. 

“Oh you have friends now?” Jammo teased. Jes wrinkled his nose. But it was true. He did. Good friends who cared about him and his well being. The last person to do that other than Wylan was probably Inej. But even they didn't trust him the way his new friends did. Atiena and Sefu didn't think he was some dumb addict. “Who your lil friends?”

“Atiena and Sefu Kaboyonga, they're siblings.”

“No kidding? Kaboyonga? Any relation to the elder councilwoman?”

“Yes.”

Jammo let out a low whistle. “You've made some powerful friends Jes.”

“I seem to be attracted to powerful people,” he said. “Atiena is intimidating because she's so confident and everyone loves her. Sefu though, he's just Sefu.”

“Does Sefu always make you smile like that?”

Jes jolted up. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Forget I said it.” Jammo gave a sidelong look to the inside, where Hadiyah and Wylan were laughing. “Let's go back inside.”

Jesper looked at the life Jammo had. A beautiful little beach home, a second house, and a lucrative job coordinating the sale of jurda in the region. He had a beautiful Bedu wife and was going to have some gorgeous children. Even though Jammo had light skin and dark eyes, while Jes had light eyes and dark skin, they were both half Kaelish and half Zemeni. Jammo didn't seem to have the same hangups. 

They ate a light dinner - fish and rice with lots of greens and fresh fruit. Hadiyah ate a plate of mangos drizzled with nectar, blaming it on her pregnancy cravings. 

“Lets go check out the beach,” Jes whispered when they finished clearing the table. Wylan beamed, and his heart melted all over again. 

Safely out of the earshot of nosey friends, they turned to each other. “I'm sorry,” Jes said. “For last night. And this morning.”

“I'm sorry too,” Wylan responded. “Mostly for last night. What happened this morning?” He gently lifted one of Jesper's hands, and he could feel the raw cuts under the bandages.

“I got into a fight.”

“With _who_?” Wylan asked incredulously. “At least your face is okay.” He looked at the bruise on his jaw. “Mostly.”

“It's a good face,” Jes grinned. “Maybe they liked it too.” But Wylan still had the worried little crease between his eyebrows. “They called me some nasty words. For people like us.” he scratched the back of his head.

Wylan frowned, looking down at Jesper's hands. “Is he still alive?”

“Unfortunately,” he responded. The truth was, Jes was happy he didn’t kill someone with his bare hands. Its not that a gun was better. In fact, in his hand the bigot’s pistol turned into putty. But gangsters in Ketterdam were still different than his countrymen. And maybe he just didn’t want to be a killer anymore. Some thug for the Dregs. “There’s nothing wrong or unnatural about us.”

They sat down on the beach and Wylan put his head on Jesper’s shoulder. Then he began to hum a sweet tune, that was unfamiliar. Jesper closed his eyes and put his hand on Wylan’s. The lazy insects buzzed, and the gentle waves lapped on the shore. Jammo and Hadiyah were barely audible. Wylan’s voice was sweet and familiar, and the vibration tickled his shoulder. 

This could work. He would make it work. He _had_ to make it work. Maybe he slipped up a little today but he would be on his best behavior for a couple more, and then they would head back towards Ol'Umoyana and the work that Sefu and Atiena were putting in.


	10. Ukuletha Imvula

The days went by without event, and Jesper’s skin was sun-kissed, the only hint of a burn being the pink tint on his cheekbones. Wylan’s religious use of his mother’s sun recipe meant that even the Kerch was a tawny color, instead of his usual pale coloring. The bruise on Jesper’s cheek faded and they head back on the train towards Ol’Umoyana. As peaceful as the beach was, Jesper was glad to get away from the town, and from the rumors swirling about the Fjerdan missionaries.

Back on the farm and unable to sit still, Jesper went to check on his acre of jurda blossoms while Wylan relaxed. The small portion of the pasture Colm had given him was doing excellent - Jes wasn’t sure what his goal was, but he had a hint of something in his stomach. He let his instincts lead the way and he used his gift as a _Nabaluki_ to manipulate them. With training and use, it was natural. None of the struggle back in the Ice Court.

He wondered if jurda could become dormant - he had bad feelings about the upcoming negotiations with Ravka and Kerch. Jurda wasn’t Nyota Heri’s only crop but it was the most profitable, and his father’s life was in the plant.

Jesper played with a couple flowers, sticking the petal of one in his mouth before heading back to the house. 

The following day, he went back to work with Atiena, bringing Wylan along with him. Wylan was tinkering with the remnants of the bomb and jotting stuff down in his notebook, which made zero sense to Jesper. Occasionally through the day, when Jesper wasn’t helping with the kids, Wylan motioned for Jesper to move a little section. 

“That thing isn’t going to blow up in here is it?” Atiena whispered. 

“Probably not,” Jesper said back. “He’s pretty good at this.”

When they stopped for lunch at Sefu’s, he leapt from behind his food stand and enveloped Jesper in a hug. “We missed you!” he said, with a huge smile, placing his hands on either side of Jes’ face. He could smell the shea butter and sandalwood on Sefu’s skin, and the sweet smell of some oil on his freshly twisted locs. Then it was gone as Sefu turned to Wylan and gave him a hug as well, practically swallowing the smaller boy. Jesper was glad that his tan hid the fact he was blushing. 

“Goat,” Sefu managed to say in Kerch, beaming at his attempt. Then he pointed at the sauce. “Hot.” 

Wylan shook his head quickly, opting for a mild and creamy sauce instead, but Jesper went ahead and piled it on. 

Sefu spoke rapidly in Zemeni, motioning for Jes to translate. >>Nothing much has been happening. The Ravkan king is looking for a bride and Atiena is thinking of traveling to Ravka for reconnaissance.<<

Jesper stared. King Nikolai was looking for a wife? And Atiena was thinking of presenting herself? 

He translated quickly for Wylan who looked back and forth between the two of them. >>Why does Atiena have to go?<< Jesper asked. >>Can we send someone else?<<

>>She’s the well-connected daughter of a diplomat, and the Council of Elders. She’s one of the few with enough prestige to pull it off.<< Sefu didn’t look happy either. >>Ravka is a black hole of despair - I would rather have her wait here with us, and send someone else. But there is Council pressure too. If anyone could convince Nikolai to take the diplomatic route it would be her.<<

Jesper sighed. Gone for less than a week, and now one of his new friends might be traveling far away. >>Do they know about Ilya?<<

Sefu shrugged, and Jesper filled Wylan in on the conversation, and told him a little bit about Ilya. It didn’t seem right to put Atiena’s business completely out there but enough so Wylan wasn’t completely in the dark. As much as Jesper hated to admit it, it was a good idea. Everyone said that the King was charming, and Zemeni people also said he was a liar who doubled back on deals and had no integrity. After all, he owned people. He owned the grisha, how could that be ethical?

They sat around eating until Atiena came and joined them. 

>>I told them about your plan,<< Sefu said. 

Atiena rolled her eyes. >>Its a good plan.<<

>>Its a dangerous plan, without us there to help you.<<

>>I have these,<< she responded, wiggling her fingers.

>>What if they decide you’re property of their King? If an accident happens and they take you away?<< Sefu looked fearful and Atiena shrugged, glancing away. 

Wylan looked uncomfortable with the conversation, and pulled out the hunk of metal from his knapsack. Except it wasn’t a hunk of metal anymore. It looked like a bomb, and clear as day was the rose symbol. 

Sefu looked alarmed but Atiena smiled wide, looking between Wylan and Jesper. “You figured it out!” Jesper said, with a grin. 

Wylan gave a shy smile, but the siblings attentively listened as Jesper translated for them. >>Its a pressure bomb, like a mine. It was altered so that it would blow in the direction of the club, and someone must have tripped it off. The voices you heard. I remember in a letter. I think the rose might be a symbol for Sankta Lizabeta. The Ravkan saint, and the rose is her symbol. Inej talked about her.<< Inej and her knives.

>>Sefu, can you research the Ravkan saints?<< Atiena quickly asked. He nodded. >>Please continue Wylan.<<

Wylan beamed under the attention of the Zemeni rebels. >>Someone had to have been there, to set it off. And bought a lot of concentrated gunpowder.<<

Atiena worried at her fingertips and looked between them. “Thank you Wylan,” she told him in Kerch. Then she turned directly to Jesper. >>I want you to help me practice my Ravkan again.<<

After they finished a tense lunch, with Sefu and Atiena arguing in hushed tones, Jes decided to head back to Ol’Umoyana. 

They found a small Kerch shop where Wylan excitedly looked around, while Jesper waited outside, sitting against the wall. Men nodded their heads as they walked by at him, and he studied the rusty red dirt that built up in the corners of the modern buildings. He stood up to grab Wylan so they could head back to the farm when there was a massive explosion and the ground shook. 

Everyone around him stopped, looking for the source. He could smell the gunpowder, and he looked towards the harbor, where smoke was rising up. “Wy!” he shouted, and the merchling ran out. The two of them began running towards the harbor, while everyone else ran away, and inside public buildings like the library and university. Fast carts driven by _umoya yomlilo_ zipped past them, the zowa on them careful to avoid running over people.

The two of them were drenched in sweat by the time they went to the harbor and saw what happened. Two boats were sinking, slowed down only because zowa _ukuletha imvula,_ the Tidemakers, were keeping them afloat while others searched for survivors. Even from a distance, Jes could see that there were bodies floating in the water. 

“Just like home,” Wylan half-heartedly jested, and Jes cut him a scathing look. The market by the bay was completely abandoned, wares scattered around. Everyone had either run to safety or was down at the harbor helping. And Jes wanted to help. He started running through the various tents and stalls until it gave way to the docks where he had swept Wylan into his arms just a week earlier. 

Thinking more with his chest instead of his head, he jumped headlong into the water where the rescue efforts were going on. 

Jes was a strong swimmer and the hard work of the farm meant he easily carried himself over to where the first body was. A light skinned Zemeni woman was impaled by a huge splinter in the stomach but she was alive. He used his Zowa gift to carefully break off the protruding part and flagged down a rescuer. 

A strong swimmer, Jes decided to head to the next one. There was no saving her. The people in the water were from various regions - he saw a Fjerdan family struggling to find each other, and a Kaelish lad with burn marks covering half his face. 

When he started to tire out, he swam back to shore where Wylan was put to work by others bandaging wounds. When the ships were scoured for any other survivors, the Zowa finally released them into the harbor, the deafening groan of wood ringing Jesper's ears. The mast of a ship splintered and crashed into the water, causing a swell to hit the waterfront.

Manic energy coursed under his skin - he needed to help and be in the action. Wylan nudged on his arms. “You should translate,” he said, and pointed to a Kaelish woman that was trying and failing to talk to the umphulukisi. 

Jes went to help, and found out they were here to visit family - the ship had several groups of refugees from Ravka and Fjerda, and was carrying Kaelish goods for import. There was no reason for it to be bombed. >>It must have been an accident,<< the Zowa comforted, but there was a worried look in their eyes. Jes frowned, but decided to look for some Ravkans once the Kaelish family was settled.

In the midst of destruction around him, Jes became keenly aware that his clothes were soaked. He pulled at the fabric and Wylan blushed. “Wanna ask one of the oomphooks to help?”

Jesper chuckled at the butchering but at least Wylan tried. “No, let's find something.”

They wandered away from the madness, until Jes found an abandoned clothing stall. He grabbed a kitenge shirt and plain shorts, stripping off his old clothes and putting on the new. Wylan grabbed some money out of his bag and they tucked it behind the stall for whenever the owner returned. 

“Da is probably worried sick,” he said. “We should head back.”

Colm was sitting on the porch by the time they made it back. Jesper wasn't surprised that Sefu was also there, speaking in hushed tones. Colm's face was strained, the rosey color sapped from his cheeks. 

“Da?” Jesper called out. The Kaelishman looked up and ran up to him, in a tight hug. Jesper saw that there were two bodies covered by the porch, and that Sefu was holding tight to a rifle. “What the hell happened?”

“They attacked some of the jurda farms, Jes. They were trying to set fire and plant poisons. Sefu stopped them. He was stopping by to see you and…” Colm wiped at his eyes, searching Jes’ face. “I'm so glad you're okay.”

“It was a diversion!” Wylan yelled. Everyone stared in confusion until Jes translated. 

>>They attacked the harbor! I bet other farms were attacked too while it happened.<<

Sefu’s mouth dropped. Jesper quickly explained the scene from earlier and the explosion. Colm gasped and sat back down on the porch, hand over his mouth. Sefu started to reload his rifle. >>Thank the ancestors we started patrols on farms. We need to meet up with everyone. Assess the damage.<< He pulled Jesper in, whispering. “Stay here. Left my findings on the table. May I borrow Nguvu to find Atiena?”

“Of course,” Jes said. Sefu touched his forehead to Jesper's and then headed to the stables. 

Wylan walked up, eyes darting from Jesper to Sefu's back. “What's going on?”

“Sefu is going to check on Atiena and see if there's news from other farms.”

Wylan nodded, biting his lip. Jes waited to see if he was going to ask anything else, but when the moment passed in silence he walked over to the bodies. 

Lifting the first shroud, he saw that it was an unmistakably Fjerdan man. Short blonde hair, a low brow, and narrow wide lips. Jes thought of the refugees from earlier. The Fjerdan family that just wanted a better life. He covered the face. The second body was a woman. Her coloring was a fair Zemeni and loose curls. But there was that Fjerdan slant to her face that gave Jesper pause. A strong straight nose that was unusual. Straight eyelashes instead of short curled ones. And he felt great sorrow for her, a woman who's life may have been similar to his. He covered her face as well.

“Any damage to the crops?” Jesper asked. 

“I haven't had a chance to look. If there's poison Jes, leave it be. We will be fine. But you won't.” Tears welled in Colm's gray eyes. “Come inside boys.”


	11. Udansa we-Sun

It was dawn by the time everyone gathered at Colm's, the farmers, Zowa, and their makeshift defenders spilling through the family room and dining area, out into the porch and field. Worried brown eyes and brown faces, Colm running around to offer everything he had to people. 

The devastation could have been worse - Wylan had been right about a coordinated attack. But whoever orchestrated it failed to know about the Zowa patrols, and those who weren't caught in the act had fled. Two had been taken alive and were being held for information. But that was for later.

Jesper anxiously flit about the room, only stopping long enough to see multiple people bow their heads in front of Aditi's portrait. 

Wylan kept pace with Jesper. “You need to sleep,” he whispered in Kerch. Jes blinked a couple times, sorting the language in his head. 

“Probably.”

“You can't go on like this, you know how you get.”

“How do I get, Wy?” He snapped back. Then winced. “Like that. But not yet.”

Atiena was dressed as messy as he had ever seen her. Her normally meticulous appearance was haphazard, a belted dress and sandals, with a turban thrown on her head. Sefu had a simple shirt and cropped trousers on, standing by her side. His face was strained and he still had the rifle by his side. Jes knew he didn't particularly like shooting - preferred to fight with fists. _I need to thank him for protecting the crop,_ Jesper thought. His friends didn't look well.

“Brothers, sisters, and siblings,” Atiena started. A deathly quiet fell over the house as eyes turned to her. “Thank you for coming so quickly. There has been an attack on the heart of Ol'Umoyana and her region. Eight farms were attacked either by fire or poison last night. Thanks to the patrols, the damage was not as bad as it could have been. But production will still need to be slowed. We have reason to believe Fjerda is attacking us but we need more information. Nyota Heri isn't ready for war - so I will be venturing to Ravka to gain more information.”

Murmuring started, but she raised her hand up to silence people. “My mind is made up. In the meantime we must train stronger and harder than Fjerda. We must guard our secrets as jealously as the Shu. We must hold steadfast to our beliefs like Ravka and we must count our coins and hoard them like Kerch. Anything they do to gain an advantage we must do better. The council is sending their network of spies and we can only trust that they will bring us helpful information. Our duty as civilians is to the land of our ancestors, and to protect our people. Have no hate in your heart for the refugees - they are the victims as well.”

Jes found himself nodding, and he wondered if Zowa magic could be contained in words. When she spoke, everyone was desperate to cling to her tongue. 

“Trust each other. We are small but mighty, and we will not be pushed around any longer. I will be reaching to many of you before I leave.”

She stepped down and Jes saw that Colm was standing next to him. “She's a lot like your mum. The way everyone here loves her. Adores her. She was the crown jewel of the Daughters competition last year as well. You don't see women like them on any other continent.” Colm squeezed his shoulder, eyes flicking to a couple other people. “Excuse me,” he said. 

Jes followed his gaze to where a couple was chatting. They weren't much older than his Da. Wylan tugged on his arm. “It looks like Atiena is calling you over.”

At the table, Atiena sat. Sefu paced slowly behind her, and Jesper recognized the energy - the lack of stillness caused by too much happening inside. By Atiena were a few other Zowa he recognized but didn't know. 

She spoke rapidly and in low tones. Jesper felt wholly inadequate at the table where countey-altering decisions were being made. This didn't just affect his friends and a few oligarchs in Ketterdam - this would spiral and affect international relations. 

“We cannot let others know who we suspect. Nyota Heri is not ready and we must play their games. I've recommended to the Council that they blame it on droughts and a bad growing season. We will spread other conspiracies at the markets - the truth will seem unlikely amongst the crowd. Protections are being placed around the rest of the crops and exports such as oil, gold mines, and cacao.” she whispered to those closest to her and they nodded before disappearing. 

“Jesper come here,” she said, waving him over with a tired sigh. He looked from Wylan to her and then sat next to her in the still-warm seat. “I heard about your efforts yesterday. Thank you. How are your fields?”

“Mostly good. I need to check on my patch.” They had only done a quick pass through. “What can we do Atiena?”

“Sefu has found out more about the symbols. I want you and Wylan to work with and verify some information. We simply do not understand Eastern cultures the same way you do. Help be my eyes and ears in Eastern parts of the city. Classes at the school will be suspended while I am gone. It is simply unsafe.”

Jesper grabbed one of her hands as she wiped her eyes with another. Tears were falling freely down her face, but no one around them was looking at her as if she was weak. “I don't wish to actually match with the Ravkan King, for he is vulgar, but I hope to understand the current situation better, and speak with other women. In the privacy of rooms I will gain more knowledge and better serve the Council, and Zemenis.” 

She stood and dropped a kiss on Jesper's forehead and suddenly he was reminded of his mom. She thought the best of him, too. And somehow wouldn't be surprised at this turn of events. Aditi would stand right there with Atiena providing comfort and counsel. But instead she was lying beneath a tree, for a girl who's name he didn't know. 

Atiena also gave Wylan and Sefu a gentle kiss on the head before retreating to do whatever leaders did. Jes knew Kaz would plot and scheme in his office and jealously hide information. Not Atiena, who trusted and depended on him. Maybe that was just her skill, making people feel needed. But here she had complete strangers willing to kneel to her orders. Kaz had to break their legs to get that loyalty. 

He quickly translated for Wylan, who nodded. 

People were congregating in groups - Colm was talking to other farmers and to Jammo, who just arrived after traveling all night to arrive. They were outlining production needs to different regions and how to combine crops to avoid any drastic shortages. Some young Zowa were deciding on different rumors and conspiracies to spread, and how to twist the truth so that their enemies wouldn't flee. 

“Jes,” Wylan said. “I need to sleep. Can you come to bed too?”

“Soon,” he replied with an unexpected yawn. “Just let me find Sefu.”

Wylan frowned but nodded. The older Zemeni had slipped out at some point, and Jesper squeezed through the thinning crowds to find him. 

Outside in the fresh air, he saw Sefu by one of the trees on their property. The rifle was finally out of his hands and on the ground, and Jes intentionally made a lot of noise as he approached, walking with a heavier footstep. 

“Jesper Hilli,” Sefu said, opening his eyes. His locs fell heavy around his shoulders and face. 

“Sefu Kaboyonga,” he called back. When he arrived, he was self-conscious. He was still dressed in the clothes he borrowed from the market. The bombing already felt a week away instead of the previous afternoon. “It's my turn to ask. How are you?”

Sefu let out a breathy chuckle, holding his hands up in front of him. “I've never killed people before.”

Jes blinked. That hadn't even occurred to him. Ketterdam whispered in his ear and clouded his thoughts.

“When I saw them I could only think of you and Colm. I didn't even think about noble things, like Atiena would have. The thousands that could be harmed by destroyed crops. But I thought of you. And how Aditi died. And your father. And I pulled the trigger twice.” Tears started down his eyes. “I took two lives. Selfishly.” He started to sob. “And I would do it again.”

Jesper sat in the dirt next to him, and grabbed his hand. It was already so familiar to him, always ready to comfort him as a friend. “I can't ever repay you. This farm was a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She's buried right there,” he pointed to where one tree stood by its lonesome self. Where he always tried to find that perfect shade of pink. “He bought it from Jammo and gave it to her. The jurda blossoms is kind of who she is. Their love.”

He blinked back his own tears, at the memory of his mother and the broken man beside him. “I've killed before. I've killed a lot of people.” He thought back to his time in Ketterdam. Here, people were dying and being mourned, because of games that foreign countries played. Not petty, personal reasons. “I'm not proud. I try to stay busy so I don't think about them. The first person I killed was for someone else too.”

Kaz facing the wrong way. Kaz with the limp and wouldn't move on time. A single bullet, in the chest, to take out the assailant. And when Kaz knew Jesper would kill for him, the rest was history. In the dregs. Jesper glanced at the small tattoo inside his wrist. It was time to get that removed.

“I'm just trying to be a better person now. The one my mom would love.”

“Your mom was incredible. People still honor her memory, even today.” Sefu squeezed his hand and Jesper reached with the free one to wipe his tears. “I don't think you're a bad person. I think Kerch poisoned you more than anything. But if you get back to your roots, you will flourish again.”

It sent a lightning bolt to Jesper's chest. “Wait. Wait wait wait.” A thought was forming. “Let me just -” He needed to process. Sefu looked at him with confused patience. _Roots. Back to the roots._ “Shit, you figured the whole thing out.”

He leaned in and gave Sefu a kiss on the head, the same way they always did to him. But then, on a whim, gave him another on the cheek before standing up as and offering a hand. “Show me where they tried to poison.”

They walked over the rolling hills to where the Sefu took them down. Jesper was relieved to see it was mostly the acre he'd been experimenting with. In this situation it would be good luck.

He could feel the poison in the earth as he approached. It tingles “Do you want to tell me what's going on Jes?” Sefu asked. “Someone should know we're out here. His eyes were still laced with red from crying, but he was also curious. 

“I had an idea,” Jesper started. “About jurda. You know how the doctors turned the poison of oleander into a medicine for overdose? Castor is poisonous but we use it for our hair and eyelashes to make them grow. What if we can do the same for jurda?”

“How do you mean?”

“I was thinking of university. Do you know I studied agriculture and business? I wanted to be a lawyer over land use and acquisition.” He didn't like to think about uni. He felt like a failure every time. “What if we can take jurda and make it resilient? What if we could make it so there is an antidote to parem? Or can be no parem at all?” Completely deactivate whatever boosted Zowa power. He wished Kuwei were here instead of being in Ravka. To work on it together. To ask him questions about his time in Fjerda. _When Atiena goes to Ravka, I'll ask her to bring him another letter._

He trailed his fingers over the gorgeous orange stalks, feeling the poison lurking in the roots. It trembled under his skin, the magic urging him to stay away. Just like his father did.

But the petals were what people wanted. The oils in the seeds. Because that gave them a buzz and maybe that created the parem. He wasn't a scientist. But plants had long been part of his life. “But the roots, Sefu. We don't think about the roots. They're bad for eating, they go deep, and don't do much. What if we change that? Change the plant?”

Sefu keeled down and touched some of the petals, which had shriveled. Jesper carefully began to draw the poison. Not up, to him. But down into the roots. Into the bulbs below. He didn't feel sick or queasy, since it wasn't going into the air and he wasn't ‘holding’ it in his hands or body. He felt a wave of nausea and then it was over. 

Falling to his knees, he dug at the roots and pulled the whole plant out in one motion. He could see a greenish-brown sickly color, and they were swollen from the poison. But the rest of the flower was back to its normal shade. “Do you think it's salvageable?” Sefu asked.

Jesper nodded, closing his eyes and searching for any other poisons in the ground. Sefu stripped off his outer layer and they wrapped a few in the cloth. Jes was still trying to piece together the information he gleaned into something useable. 

Inside, he found Atiena and told her what to do, and she gathered other _Nabaluki_ to tell them, so they could go to other farms and salvage what they could. He looked for Wylan, but he had already fallen asleep in the bedroom. 

Jes sat down on a couch next to Sefu. They both smelled like earth and sweat, sitting close enough that their legs were touching.

Sefu broke the silence first, clearing his throat and pulling a notebook out of his knapsack.

“The symbols are for Saints, in the Ravkan orthodox tradition and adopted by some ethnic minorities as well.” Like the Suli, and Inej. “They pray to them and so on, and the Saints are powerful Grisha that were canonized. The newest one being Sankta Alina, a sun summoner. Which is rare to them. Sun summoners are common in the North of Nyota Heti,” Sefu shrugged. Jes shrugged. Because they were powerful Grisha, they are used to symbolize Grisha resistance.”

“The rose. They were marking us.”

“Do you think Fjerdans know to do this?”

“We can only assume. But you are right - sun summoners are uncommon in the east.” He explained the Fold and the Unsea to Sefu, what he learned from Inej, Nina, and uni. The Darkling as evil incarnate and an oppressive force. A draconian leader, especially by Zemeni standards. 

“We have little girls who toss the sunlight like a plaything,” Sefu chuckled. “The _udansa we-sun_. It is abundant here.”

“In Fjerda the day was short - maybe a few hours in the winter. It drove me crazy.”

“You are not meant for that, not when your skin drinks the sun so readily.” Sefu poked his knee. “I'm glad you are here. You have a light in you, thanks for sharing it with us.” Sefu glanced around, and then gently kissed Jesper's hand. Warmth spread from where the lips brushed his skin, all the way to his toes. “I need to sleep. I'll see you soon.”

Jesper watched him leave, and then went back to his own room. Wylan was curled on the bed, and only shifted slightly when Jes used a cloth and wash basin to clean himself up.

“Finally,” the Kerch muttered. “Everything settled?”

“No. But it'll still be unsettled when I wake up.”


	12. Baba Jes, 2

The house was quiet when Jesper finally woke up, desperately in need of water. Wylan was still passed out next to him, pale eyelashes fanned against pale skin. He tiptoed out to the hallway, making his way to the kitchen. Sefu was asleep on their couch, gently snoring. Guilt coursed through his veins even if he hadn't done anything wrong. Atiena was on a high back chair in the corner, curled up into a ball, worry still etched onto her flawless features. 

He grabbed some well water that they kept stored and sipped, noticing his father outside, standing by his mother's gravesite. Through the large windows he saw Colm's arm was outstretched to the beautiful tree. The pink blossoms had long since given way to a vibrant green, heralding warm months ahead. Jesper finished his drink and quietly went outside. 

Colm turned when he saw Jesper approaching, not bothering to wipe the tears flowing from his eyes. “Jes,” he said. Their eyes were reflections of each other - the only differences were the skin color around them, and the lines around Colm’s. Laugh lines, smile lines, and some stress lines that weren’t there when Jesper first went off to University. 

“I love having you back,” Colm said. “Despite everything - the chaos, whatever bollocks is happening with other countries - are you happy to be home?”

“Yes,” Jesper said. “You don’t think I’m a failure? Because I didn’t finish and become a lawyer?”

“Heavens, no,” Colm shook his head. “I could never. I was just chatting with your mum here,” he cleared his throat. “I wish when she was gone I would have talked to you more. About her. I did a lot of things wrong, Jes. The school for zowa - sending you away too young to Ketterdam. But if you want to stay, you stay. If you want to go, make sure its because you’ll be happy. I know the boy back there in your bed - who I said should have his own room -” he gave a knowing glance, “Makes you happy too. But I think so do your new friends.”

“They do,” Jesper said. For the last few years Jesper did things because someone told him to. Or because he had to, to fight his gambling debts. But now he was mapping his own future, and he picked who was a part of it. “I want it all,” he said. “I want to stay here. Go to school again in Ol’Umoyana. But I want Wylan with me too.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Colm said. “Does Wylan know this?”

“We haven’t really talked about it yet.” Jesper thought about their arguments. “Kerch is his home. And his friends are there. But my friends aren’t there anymore. Inej is on the seas. My acquaintances were gamblers.” He twirled his finger around an errant curl. “I don’t think there’s a place for the new me.” 

Colm let out a weak chuckle, sniffing as another tear went down his face. “You know she would have the perfect words for this right now. She always knew what to say.”

“How come you decided to stay here in Nyota Heri?” Jesper asked. “Instead of going back to grandma and grandpa in the Wandering Isles?” Jesper didn’t know much about them - they sent letters twice a year and hadn’t visited since he was a child. 

“Love, as dramatic as it sounds. I spent half a year gathering the courage to speak to her. Another half a year bringing her flowers and telling her she was the most beautiful woman in existence. She was the love of my life, and I hope she can forgive me for that.” He covered his hand with his mouth, and Jesper could see the Kaelish-style wedding ring on his father’s hand. “There was never any question. Jammo was my best friend. I loved the open land. Even then, when Ol’Umoyana was a mid-sized port city. The life I wanted is here. Back on the Isles I would have worked at the pub. Married a nice woman and had nice kids. But they would not have been Aditi Hilli, and they would not have been Jesper Fahey.” Colm smiled, staring at the spot where she was resting.

“I always wanted a love like you two,” Jesper said. 

“You will,” Colm said. “You’re Hilli and Fahey.”

Jesper beamed at that. “I still don’t know what to do.”

“Well son, you’re eighteen and have two lads who think the world of you.” Colm paused. “And that funny Shu boy from Ketterdam.”

Jesper felt heat in his cheeks and Colm immediately seized the opportunity. “You have your mother to thank for your looks.” He put his hand on Jesper’s shoulder and squeezed. “We have her to thank for a lot of things. Come inside. Its about time to start dinner.”

They walked back inside, and Jesper felt at peace, even if his questions weren’t answered. But he did know this - Nyota Heri made him happy. His new friends loved and respected him. He was worried sick for Atiena, who was going to Ravka. Sefu made him feel… something. Something he was trying to squash. 

Once inside, Jesper saw there was some mail for him, probably brought in by one of the zowa militia. They were still sealed - letters from Kaz, Inej, Marya, and an unlabeled one. He tucked them to the side before moving around the kitchen with his father, preparing a big stew that would feed their guests.

Atiena woke up first, shuffling over to them and apologizing profusely. “I didn’t mean to impose, please let me make it up to you.”

“You and your group helped save my entire life on this farm,” Colm chuckled. “You’re family.”

Atiena beamed, picking up a broom and busying herself cleaning up the dust left by the barrage of people earlier. Wylan walked in next, wiping sleep from his eyes and starting a pot of tea for them. Jesper bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Morning sunshine,” he said.

“Its almost sunset,” Colm chirped. 

When the delightful scent of goat meat and vegetable stew wafted through the air, Sefu finally became alert, groaning as he sat up from the couch. Colm even brought out some of his expensive Kaelish brew from his ice box, offering each of them some of the alcohol. “We could all use a little bit after the day we had,” he said. 

They all sat down at the family table, and Colm seemed pleased with all the company. “Jammo will join us later tonight, he’s supervising some work at the other farms.” Jesper nodded. Wylan was sitting next to him, Atiena on his other side. Colm and Sefu sat next to each other, the big pot of food in the middle. The conversation stayed light, everyone trying to avoid the questions hovering above them.

When they finished, Sefu insisted on cleaning up while the rest moved into the family area. Jesper and Wylan sat on the couch, and he could smell the faint scent left behind by Sefu. He played with Wylan’s hands, which were delightful. Everything about Wylan stood out in the little seaside cottage. The colors of the Fahey home - rich earthy colors and saturated reds and oranges, were so different from the pastels and the coldness of the Van Eck home. 

Atiena regaled stories to Colm, who found her delightful. Jesper quietly translated into Wylan’s ear, the close intimacy warming up his heart. Wylan’s back was to his chest and he leaned forward, strawberry blonde waves and freckles filling his vision. Wylan’s hand was laced in his. She told stories about diplomatic missions she went on with her father, cultural misunderstandings, and funny things that happened. She was as compelling as ever.

Sefu snuck in behind them without Jesper noticing, settling onto the floor by the back wall. He was only made aware of the other boy’s presence when he chimed in, giving Atiena a hard time about something or other. 

When everyone focused on Atiena again, Jesper glanced at Sefu, who was staring right at him. His heart leapt into his throat. Sefu gave him a heartbreakingly beautiful smile, and Jesper turned away, holding tight onto Wylan in response.

_Jesper,_

_Don’t forget who your allegiance is to. If you do not return, consider yourself out of the Dregs._

_Kaz._

* * *

_Jesper,_

_It is so good to hear from you! Word has spread about the bombing at the club in Novyi Zem. Was that anywhere near you? Remember if you need anything, leave word for me with my parents. Tell me how you are doing? How is your father? My ship is excellent - we managed to stop a Fjerdan ship full of grisha bound for our old friend the Ice Court. I recommended they start a new life in Novyi Zem or Kerch. You may be seeing some of the refugees come through the port. Do let me know._

_Love,  
Inej_

* * *

_Jesper Fahey,_

_**First** and foremost, thank you for reaching out to me. Are you interested in coming to Ravka? Kerch has better weather and is not as cold. Understand, the cold is a big deal but it is a wonderful place to learn the small sciences. Perhaps you are not getting the training you need? Here you would do very well. Excel, even. Please write back when you have the chance. Here you will find my contact information. I can tell you all you need about Ravka and the little palace and where you can fight for grisha. Life will be better. Everywhere._

_Soldier of the Second Army,  
Nhaban._


	13. Umzingili intliziyo

Life slowly but surely continued on. Atiena’s network of young spies discovered the Ravkan saint symbols spread across the East of Nyota Heri, informing her of who came and went, while she prepared for her trip to Ravka. She also planned a going-away night with her closest friends. Wylan was teaching some of them how to disarm basic types of bombs, with _nabaluki_ and _umphulukisi_ close by in case anything went wrong. Jesper focused on the physical aspect of training, learning how to manipulate everyday objects into either weapons or shields, and physical properties of each of them.

In the zowa world, he was learning that they frequently blurred the lines between different classes of ability. Zowa trained and fought together - learning how to combine their areas of expertise to be particularly effective. Jesper appreciated how communal everything was. None of the individualistic approach from the East.

Sefu explained to a group of them how to effectively fight other zowa. “Its hard to fight someone who has the blessings of the ancestor, and you don’t,” he said. “But you can even the field. I studied some techniques used in Shu Han, their traditional fighting. They believe more in pressure points, and through trial and error,” Sefu grinned, “I think I found some for zowa.”

Jesper thought Sefu was brilliant, as he laid it out for them. A truly Zemeni fighting style.

 _Nabaluki_ were like Jesper - the weavers of stone and metal, of things unliving. But Jesper was also an earth-maker. The way he manipulated plants and flowers. _Umkhandi._ Craftsmen. The connection to the earth came from being grounded. Sefu showed where to strike on the hips, their center of gravity. The _nabaluki_ required aim to the shoulders. 

Sefu used a combination of Southeastern fighting sticks, and the Dambe style from Western Nyota Heri. A quick foot, leveraged blows, and close combat were key. 

Fire and wind needed oxygen. To fight the _inbliziyo yomlilo_ and _umoya yomlilo_ , Inferni and Squallers, Sefu showed them how to punch up into the lungs from below. Jesper watched the power in his body as he pivoted, slamming a dummy of a human at a deadly angle. The thwump it made was sickening, but Jesper greedily drank in the knowledge. Did anyone else begin to put this together? East and West joining, and intimate knowledge of how the body worked. 

The rain-bringers were susceptible in the lower back, where water processed in the body. Heartrenders and healers were the most obvious - the heart. _Umzingili intliziyo_ like Atiena, and _umphulukisi_ Sefu showed how to strike from behind and in front. He spoke like a scholar but moved like a fighter, his broad body moving with deftness. 

Jesper committed it all to memory. He was squaring off with a _umzingili_. He could feel Sefu's gaze but pushed it away, assessing the situation. It was almost unfair fighting someone who could stop his lungs. He was armed with the fighting sticks, heavy wooden shafts the length of his arm. Hard work farming paid off, and could carry them with ease.

He tucked into a roll, already feeling a numbness in his left arm from his opponent's attack. He closed the gap between them quickly, knowing he couldn't shoot from afar as usual. Melee combat was still tricky for him, and she was able to pin him to the ground, delivering a painful blow to his right arm, but a few inches from the nerve that would numb him.

Jesper kicked up, catching her by surprise. It was enough for him to slam the butt of the stick by what Sefu said was “where most of the blood goes in and out” she gasped and tapped in forfeit, and an _umphulukisi_ jumped in to help her.

“Great job Jes,” Sefu said. “Even if she was going easy on you.”

“You don't think I could take you?”

“Of course you couldn't,” Sefu teased with the blinding smile again. “Not unless your face distracted me.”

Jesper blinked, his nonchalant grin turning into a shy smile. But Sefu looked away, and his heart pounded. The other boy cleared his throat. “Are you and Wylan joining us tonight?” 

Jesper nodded, throat dry. “I'm excited to go out.”

“Me too.”

Atiena had her parents get them a hotel room in the city. Jesper, Sefu, Wylan, and a couple of her other friends were crashing for the night so they could party hard. Best case scenario, she would be back in a month. Worst - she would be engaged to the King of Ravka. Jes didn't want to think about that option. 

Even Wylan was dressed in a simple Zemeni style, a plain sky blue dashiki and cotton shorts. The color made his clear eyes jump out even more at Jesper. Atiena was resplendent in bright yellow and cobalt blue kitenge dress, that was scandalously short in the front and went down to her knees in the back. Jesper chuckled in his head, thinking of what Matthias’s reaction to the large swath of inky dark skin. Sefu had a sleeveless shirt on, arm holes dipping down towards his ribs, a simple (for Nyota Heri) geometric pattern in red, white, and brown. His black linen pants cinched in at his calves. 

Jesper’s hair was braided back into a knot on the top of his head, a daring style Atiena demanded, but disguised as a suggestion. He also decided to put kohl on his eyes, trying some of the makeup the girls all brought with them. She talked with her friends, a few Zemeni girls who also grew up going to diplomatic schools, looking more like her age and less like a potential Queen of Ravka. 

Brown skin glowed, drinking in the soft light of the hotel suite. Atiena was lathering cocoa butter on her legs and laughing, Sefu doing the same for his elbows and arms.

Pearl dust on her cheeks, and indigo dye staining her lips, Atiena declared she was ready. Bottles of alcohol were stuffed away, occasionally brought out to pass around while they walked to the night market and dancing. 

Since the attack on the club, the market came back in full force and defiance. Filled with the young of Ol’Umoyana, there was a vibrant shimmer to the air. He held Wylan’s hand, excited to go out and have fun. No talk of revolutions, or militia defense, or international relations. No strange, cryptic letters. He was a boy, holding hands with the boy he loved, and they were going to drink and dance. Jesper planned on kissing him silly.

Instead of being under a roof, a live band played on an empty stretch of land to the south of the night market. Pretty candles were suspended, giving the night a hazy, orange glow. The percussive Zemeni music crawled under his skin faster than the liquor, and Jesper pulled Wylan in to dance.

Even Wylan was enjoying himself, moving awkwardly at first but then finding a semblance of a beat. Their bodies were close, and his mind was floating. Jesper glanced over at Sefu, who was dancing with another man - someone not in their group. He was laughing, and Jesper knew he had no right to feel the pang that he did. So he leaned down to kiss Wylan, remembering all the reasons why he was happy. Why he wanted him here, so they could be together.

Doubt flew from his mind when Wylan was so close, filling up every facet of his life with his splendor. But the visa didn’t last forever. 

And it was looking like there wasn't a place for him in Ketterdam anymore.

He banished the thoughts by pulling Wylan as close as possible and shutting his eyes, the two of them twirling and laughing and kissing until the band played their last song, and Atiena drunkenly announced she wanted food. 

They found some street food, every one sweaty with smeared makeup. Wylan was half sleep-walking, half rambling in Kerch about… something. Jesper’s brain was fried, only half receiving in each language around him. The drunkenness slowed his translations to a crawl. He ordered coconut water and a mango, while Wylan finally knew enough to get his own drink and food. Jesper felt pride in his boyfriend.

They chatted with Sefu and one of Atiena's friends when Jesper caught a commotion to the side. Two men, drunkenly fighting each other. It was nothing unusual, but his hackles raised, thinking of the bombing. Of the fight by the beach with the bigot. 

His hand hovered near his pistol the others turned towards the commotion, only mildly interested in the shenanigans. Jes didn't understand why they weren't more concerned. The shouting grew more violent and closer, and then it moved towards them. 

Jes saw the flash of something silver. A knife? A gun? But instincts kicked in and he pulled his pistol, aiming in a split second as it got too close to Wylan.

He turned off the safety to pull the trigger when he stopped.

It was like a hand was wrapped around his heart. Pain seared through him and the tendons of his shoulders pulled taught of each other. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't anything. 

The hand let go and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, clawing at his chest. Wylan dropped down next to him.

“What the fuck,” he heard Atiena whisper. His stinging eyes looked up and Atiena was standing by him. Disgust was written all over her face and he began to shake. “You were going to _kill_ a Zemeni just for getting a little close to your beau?” Her hand flexed and he realized the sheer power of her skill. She was drunk and could have killed him. But she was that good. He barely managed to get to his knees, trying to recover from the grip. 

His eyes darted to the talismans on her wrist as she pulled him up. Tears streamed down his now-dusty face as she searched him. “Jesper Fahey,” she said. “That may work in Ketterdam. But that is not okay here. We don't murder innocents. They were fighting. It passes, and then it is over. You need to decide if there is more Kerch in you than we know.”

Jesper couldn't speak, but pleaded with his eyes. Wylan looked confused, and angry. How could he contend with her righteous anger? 

“Atiena,” Sefu interrupted. He gently grabbed his sister's arm. “Stop. No one got hurt.”

“This time,” she replied. “I'm going to the hotel. You think about what has happened tonight.”

The girls gathered around her while she stormed off. Sefu leaned in to Jesper, pulling him into a hug and placing a chaste kiss onto his forehead. “You're a good man, Jes. I'll see you back there,” he said before following his sister. 

Jesper clutched the sides of his head. “Hey, Jes? Jes? Come on,” Wylan said through the fog, leading him somewhere that wasn't public. Atiena wasn't holding his heart anymore but he still couldn't breathe, and tremors went through his body. 

“In, out.” Wylan made the in-out motions with him. Jesper finally calmed down, the shaking becoming more intermittent. “What was she saying?”

“I’m a failure. They don’t want me anymore.”

“What? Did she actually say that?” Wylan became red with anger and confusion.

“No. Yes. I mean -” Jes let out a shuddering breath. “She didn’t have to. Said I needed to evaluate how much Kerch was in me. She condemned me for wanting to shoot an innocent man.” Jesper sniffed and wiped his nose. “I ruined it. I ruined everything that I’ve built here.”

Wylan gave him a hug, and Jesper tucked his chin on the soft hair, even if it was damp from the night out. “You don’t have to stay here. You can come back to Ketterdam with me. Kaz won’t even care, he’ll be happy to see you.”

“He said if I don’t come back he’ll kick me out anyway. I don’t want to be treated like that.” 

“He’s being dramatic,” Wylan responded. “Come on, you belong in Ketterdam.” 

“I don’t think I do,” Jesper said, wiping away the onslaught of tears. “I wanted to do right in Ol’Umoyana, in Nyota Heri. I’ve just fucked it up, and in front of Atiena. And Sefu. They were my new start. I have to make it up to them. I have to -” he stuttered over his words, his brain turning to nonsense. He couldn’t even keep track of what languages were flowing out of his mouth. “I have to fix it before Atiena leaves. She can’t leave thinking of me this way.”

Wylan hugged him tighter. “Come on. Lets go back to the hotel. We can get another room.”

Jesper stifled a sob and nodded, the kohl smudging along his cheeks. They walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel.


	14. Akuphephile

At the hotel, they saw Atiena's friend Nandi waiting for them in the lobby. She was a curvy brown-skinned girl with short curls, and a powerful _lethavu_ if Jesper remembered right. Her eyes flicked between them and he wanted to crumple all over again. There was no way they could trust him anymore. All he had to do was be a good person, and he failed at that. 

“Atiena is fine,” she started. “But when she gets like this it's better to have some space. She hasn't fought with Sefu like this in months.” Nandi massaged her temples. “What is the saying? Unstoppable force and an immovable object.” 

Jes blinked with watery eyes. “Why were they fighting?”

“Over you. What else? Sefu said she was being a brat. He got a new room for you two.” She pursed her lips, and Jesper recognized the look. Like she knew her friend was being dramatic and needed to sleep it off. And he was violently reminded of Inej’s wry expression. “We'll see you in the morning.” She handed them the key to their new room.

Nandi nodded at Wylan, and touched a hand to Jesper's shoulder before going to the steam-powered lift. Jesper stared at the key until Wylan tugged him along, whispering comforting Kerch words. He didn't even remember walking in the door and falling asleep.

When he returned to the land of the living, Jesper's pillow was smudged with his makeup, and Wylan was asleep beside him. He took in the slant of his cheekbones and cupid's bow of his lips - the face Jesper helped Genya stitch back together. It was terrifying, really. Wylan had been put back together by a solemn picture and Jesper's eye. 

Wylan stirred and Jesper smiled, the anxiety in his bones subsiding to a small pulse. The hotel room wasn't as fancy as the suite Atiena had booked, but it was cozy and had big windows that let in the sunlight. He would need to thank Sefu.

“Hey sunshine,” he said when Wylan finally opened a tired blue eye. “Your breath stinks.”

“So does yours,” Wylan muttered, throwing the sheet off him. “Did we drink a brewery?”

“Possible.” Jesper paused. “Last time I tried a drug.”

Wylan’s mouth fell open and when Jesper made a face, he closed it. “A drug?”

“Yeah. At the night market. It was kind of fun.” But then he felt the dread in his stomach. “But then the bomb went off.” 

“No wonder you were worried last night,” Wylan said, putting his head into Jesper's chest. 

“But we've had to deal with bombs and bullets and even a tank before. Like, all of that Fjerdan might.”

Wylan shrugged. “But you know. This place isn't Ketterdam. It's nice here.”

Jesper tried to quiet his heart. “Do you like it?”

A pause. “I do. It's so hot though. And your life here is completely different. And -” something too quiet for Jesper to hear. 

“And what?” 

“And I don't know if there's room for me.”

Jesper was blown away by that revelation. He wrapped his free arm around Wylan's shoulder and squeezed tight. “All I want is you here. People here like you. They think you're smart and just wish they could speak with you. But that's not your fault.”

Wylan looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes. When I was talking to my Da he asked me what I want. And I want to stay here.” This was the first time he said it out loud to Wylan. “I work with kids. I have good friends. My abilities are so much better now. I like the food and the markets and the wide open sky.” He looked at the boy in his arms. “But I don't have you, and in my perfect world you would be here with me.”

Wylan nodded, eyebrows knit together. “You're happier here.”

“I never meant to stay in Ketterdam. I was just going to university. My Da knew it would be good to know law and business of agriculture. It's like he knew all this might be happening. I was always going to come back. Kerch isn't even my second or third language. And it was my home, for awhile. But three years isn't much compared to fifteen. The way everything feels different here? That's how I felt in Ketterdam.

“I thought I found a family,” he continued. “But not a real one. It was hollow. Everything I love is here except you.”

Wylan was so quiet, Jesper could hear the blood rushing through his ear. Then, quietly, “I wonder if my mom would like the farm.”

Hope bloomed in his chest like jurda. 

After showering, they ordered breakfast to the room and were demolishing the fruit when there was a knock on the door. Jesper forced himself to stand up and answer it, seeing Sefu’s broad shoulders filling up the frame.

“Hi,” he said, giving Jesper a small smile. He leaned in and waved at Wylan. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Jesper moved out of the way and Sefu sat on one of the chairs. His long locs dangled around his face, and the shadow of scruff was building up. He looked tired and Jesper wondered how much sleep he had gotten. The closeness from the day of the attack was simmering under the surface but if Sefu felt anything, he didn't show it. 

“I'm sorry about last night,” he started. Jesper quickly translated. “She's a force of nature and the winds can change direction.” He smiled at both of them. “She'll wander down here soon.”

Jesper was relieved that Sefu didn't seem upset with him. Didn't seem to be judging. The older boy turned to Wylan and in careful (mispronounced) Kerch, said “How are you doing Wylan?”

Wylan blinked in surprise, but smiled. And in his own broken Zemeni, “More good. Thanks.” Jesper was heartened by the interaction. Two parts of his life reaching out to one another. 

Sefu was pleased by their exchange, beaming at Wylan, who also seemed pretty happy. Right on cue there was a quiet knock, and he let Atiena in.

She was plainly dressed in men's trousers and a cropped top that would raise eyebrows anywhere outside of Nyota Heri. She looked tired, scrubbed free of makeup and pride.

Sefu made a food motion at Wylan, and the two of them took the tray and went into the hallway. 

Atiena quirked her lip. “I'm not sorry for using my powers on you,” she said. “But I am sorry I was not understanding. Sefu reminded me that you've lost more than we have.” She cleared her throat. “And that I need to be more forgiving to my friends.”

Relief flooded Jesper. He could tell she wasn't completely over it - but it was better than how Kaz had tossed him aside and dangled mistakes over his head. And for his sake, Atiena was trying to put it behind her. He wanted to cry all over again. 

“We love you Jesper,” she started. Casually dropping the word that had been withheld for so long in Ketterdam. “And I need you to keep your shit together while I'm gone. Sefu doesn't handle stress like me, and he isn't going to be able to stop you if you freak out.” 

“You have other people to help,” Jesper said. “You don't need me. I'll just lay low.”

“What?” Atiena snickered. A genuine snicker. “No. You're smart and observant and your experience abroad only helps us. You speak several languages fluently and conversationally, and you're quick on your feet. Honestly, don't sell yourself short.” 

She reached out to grab Jesper's hand. The physical affection he craved. Three years in a touch averse society. The opposite of Nyota Heri, where people lived close to each other and exchanged affection like no big deal. “So like I said. Keep your shit together. Sefu will be taking the lead while I'm gone. You should talk to someone.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are doctors for your thoughts. They help you sort whatever is upsetting you. I think you could use it.” Her expression sobered. “I don't know what you did there, but even if they try to extradite you, you have some powerful friends.” She smiled. 

“Doctors for your… thoughts?” He asked. 

“Yes. Don't you ever feel the crushing weight of your decisions? It helps. I can refer you to mine. She's wonderful.”

It made sense, but he didn't know why. There were healers for everything else. “I'll see,” he said. No promises yet. But he would be strong for Atiena. For himself. She clearly trusted him - even with his egregious mistake.

Atiena pulled him into a hug and he smiled. They called Sefu and Wylan back in, and discovered they ate the rest of the pastries. Neither of them looked apologetic. 

They met with Nandi and Atiena's other friend Akech, and they made their way to the train station. Jesper would see Atiena one last time before she departed, seeking information in Ravka. On the train to his town, Jesper overheard people talking. Some of the conspiracy theories about the harbor bombing flew between the strangers, and he smiled. Compared to the reality, someone accidentally setting off gunpowder sounded realistic. 

Colm was tending to the fields by the time Jesper and Wylan returned, so they dumped the overnight bags in his room and lounged in the sitting area, enjoying the normalcy of life as long as they could. 

* * * 

The next day, Jesper was reading over the cryptic letter he'd received. From someone named Nhaban. He didn't speak or understand Shu. And why was he talking to Jesper about coming to Ravka? Only one other person had ever done that.

He chuckled, thinking about Kuwei. 

Kuwei.

Jesper swore. It was right in front of his face the entire time. 

The word first was underlined, and he rewrote the sentences on a notepad.

Are you interested in coming to Ravka?  
Kerch has better weather and is not as cold.  
Understand, the cold is a big deal but it is a wonderful place to learn the small sciences.  
Perhaps you are not getting the training you need?  
Here you would do very well.  
Excel, even.  
Please write back when you have the chance.  
Here you will find my contact information.  
I can tell you all you need about Ravka and the little palace and where you can fight for grisha.  
Life will be better.  
Everywhere.

 _Akuphephile._ Not safe. The word branded itself in his head. Not safe, not safe, not safe. It wasn't safe. Kuwei had a new name, and it wasn't safe to tell him more information. Was Kuwei alright? What was going on in Ravka, and what did it have to do with Nyota Heri? There was no way it was a coincidence. 

“Wylan!” he called. When the merchling trotted into the room, he pointed at the word scrawled on the page. 

“You know that means nothing to me,” Wylan said blandly. 

“No it's not that. The letter was a message. Kuwei told me things were getting dangerous and to be careful. I asked him to tell me more and next thing, I get this weird recruitment letter for the Ravkan second army, which makes no sense. But it was coded. The first letters spell out the word _Akuphephile_ , which means not safe.” He ran an anxious hand through his curls. 

“What's not safe?” Wylan asked. 

“I don't know! That's the worst part.” Jesper let out an exasperated sigh. “But if he's at the palace, then maybe Atiena can meet him.”

“Do you have a lot of letters from Kuwei?” Wylan asked lightly. But Jesper could see the curiosity in her eyes. 

Jesper swept him in a one-armed hug. “No. It's only been about geopolitical knowledge.” 

Wylan visibly relaxed. They gathered their rucksacks, Jesper shoving Not-Kuwei's letter. They were headed to a Atiena and Sefu's apartment, being debriefed on whatever Atiena needed to tell them. It was a much smaller group. No training. 

It was the first time Jesper had seen her townhouse. There were bookshelves along most of the walls, with journals tucked inbetween books. A large work table was in the middle of the sitting room, where people were gathering. 

Jesper studied. Atiena sat in the middle of the table, skimming papers. Sefu stood in the corner, still looking tired. The older Zowa woman Liyana, who's land they trained on was there, and Atiena's friend Nandi. Power hummed in the room, and he was hesitant to approach her. Sefu gave him a small wave. 

“I think that's everybody,” she started. “Thank you all for coming.” Atiena looked at each of them, and Jes fell into her charismatic mannerisms “I do not plan to be gone more than a month. Intelligence suggests that they aren't particularly interested in a Zemeni queen, which is fine by me. But I expect a tight ship to be run while I am here.

“Sefu will be taking over strategy and intelligence, and be the liaison to the Council. Liyana will head the evening training sessions. Nandi is accompanying me as one of my personal guard.” Jesper had to hold back a grin. A personal guard for one of the most powerful Zowa in the country. “All international intelligence should come through Jesper, who has ground level experience in Fjerda. I have only seen from a diplomatic side.

“After giving it thought, I would like you to continue teaching at the school during my absence. The kids deserve stability and could use lessons in Ravkan classification system, and Zemeni Zowa history. If you feel up to it.” All eyes turned to Jesper, so he nodded. It would give him a chance to do more research, and what he could find, Sefu could help with. Even so, he avoided looking at Sefu or meeting his eyes.

Jesper translated for Wylan, half listening to the rest and half speaking in hushed tones. She outlined her general plan, and her carefully curated attendants that would be able to eavesdrop on Ravkan conversations, and possibly get close to the Grisha. 

“There's one who will talk to you,” Jesper started. The eyes turned to him again. “His name is Kuwei. Well. I think he's going by Nhaban. Wylan and I have worked with him, and he's sent me a couple letters since I've been here.”

Atiena stared. “You have correspondence with a member of the Second Army?”

He nodded, throat dry, and explained the short missives. Despite their spat at the food stall, Atiena still valued him. Part of Jesper wanted to doubt it - felt she would come back in a month and discard him. But another, more rational part reminded him that this wasn't Ketterdam. She turned to Nandi and whispered to her, before the other girl left. 

“Thank you Jesper. I want you to write a physical description and everything you can tell me about Not Kuwei. Any piece of information that might help us.”

Jesper gladly did it, and the room devolved into quiet conversation. Sefu brought him writing equipment and he got to work, double checking with Wylan over details. When he was done, Atiena grabbed the paper and hugged him tight. “May your ancestors guide and protect you,” she whispered, before hugging Wylan.

“I see what you mean,” Wylan leaned up to whisper. Jesper bent so be didn't have to stand on tiptoes. “They're really nice. And doing something because it's right.” Wylan’s eyes flicked to the others. “I thought Ketterdam was just normal. Like everywhere. I'm kind of sad my visa is ending.”

Jesper didn't want to think about that. “We'll get you another one. Maybe a longer one. For you and your mom.”

“I don't know what it means for my estate but. It's not off the table. When the dust settles, will you please come visit?” Wylan looked at him hopefully. “For me. Not worrying about anyone else.”

Jesper was dizzy with hope, and gave him a sweet kiss. “Yes. For you.”

Maybe he could use his new connections to get a multi-entry visa for Wylan and Marya. Maybe it could work. Maybe they could spend time between both Nyota Heri and Kerch.

When they left Atiena's, there was no big fanfare. She assured everyone she would be back soon, with more information. She promised Jes to leave him lesson plans, and they were on their way back home.


	15. The Mchezaji Mpanda

Jesper and Wylan started spending time at the University of Ol’Umoyana. The courtyard was shaded, with big work tables for students to study at. Wylan sketched out plans of various bombs for their little resistance, and Jesper tried his hardest to pore over books about the history of Nyota Heri, Kerch, Fjerda, and Ravka. But the biggest problem was that history textbooks were _boring_. 

“Hey Wy,” he said, turning to the Kerch boy with his nose in a sketch pad. “Listen to this.” Jesper cleared his throat obnoxiously, doing his best impression of a stuffy professor. “Fjerda is a conservative country in the East who’s society is centered around its monotheist beliefs.” He slammed the book down. “That doesn’t help me!”

“Its true, isn’t it?” Wylan responded.

“I guess, but it doesn’t tell me anything about Zemeni-Fjerdan relations.” Jesper let out a groan, attracting glances from a couple university students across the courtyard. He waved back at them. “Everything is turning to mush in front of me. I shouldn’t have agreed to teach a bit. I can’t even keep track of -” he looked at some of his notes. “Regional interpretations of zowa manifestation in adolescents.”

“What does that even mean?” Wylan asked. His freckles were in full force thanks to the weeks of Zemeni sun, covering his face and dipping below the neckline of his shirt. “Is this what you’re supposed to teach kids?”

Jesper shrugged. Atiena had already been gone a week and he was a disaster. He was following Atiena’s lesson plans but he wasn’t as engaging as her - couldn’t make them interested. “Maybe if I’m lucky the next explosion will actually catch me,” he muttered under his breath. Wylan beaned him in the head with a crumpled-up paper in response. 

Sefu was helpful, but Jesper was actively spending too much alone time with him. 

“I don’t know why you’re trying to do all of that,” Wylan unhelpfully said. “You’re more like the kids than Atiena is.”

“I know,” Jes replied. “But I want to be useful. I want to contribute something to the whole… everything. There are so many pieces and it’s not fitting now.”

Fjerdan guerilla tactics. Refugees coming in from the East. Explosives. Ravkan saint symbols. And at the center of it all, Nyota Heri trying to live in some damn peace. The only part Jesper was really familiar with was the Wandering Isles, and only because of what his father said. The two countries had a fluid exchange of people and goods, and a Zemeni agreement to help defend the much-smaller island nation. 

“The attacks from Fjerda couldn’t have come from nowhere,” Jesper pouted. “They were only really interested in jurda and the complete obliteration of grisha in their country.”

“They’ve been pretty busy with Ravka,” Wylan agreed. “And genocide.”

“So why pick on us? All the way across the ocean?” He stared at the paper, where words were blurring together again. “The Kerch make a little sense. They tolerate us since we dock there and bring business.”

“Yeah but you have those really big ships now that can make it all the way to Ravka without stopping,” Wylan said. “I think Kaz said there weren’t as many Zemeni ships in the past year or so.”

That caught Jesper’s interest. He had noticed less Zemenis hanging around the docks, but didn’t put two and two together. “Didn’t you say a Zemeni boy was killed by the Stadwatch?” he asked. 

“Yes. In the Katendrecht area.”

“That’s where all the Zemenis live. They’ve been self-policing for years. Why did the Stadwatch even bother going there?”

Wylan shrugged. For the first time, Jesper wished he was in Ketterdam so he could ask and get a better idea of what was going on. He loved the little Zemeni quarter - where he would get his haircut, eat food, and spend his days off reminded of home with the few people who looked like him. The hole-in-the-wall shops that smelled like comfort. He wondered who was mourning their son.

“When you go back, will you ask around for me and write back? I would feel better. I’ll teach you some phrases, maybe they’ll talk to you a bit more.” They could also take a picture together before Wylan left - then the Kerch would be more trustworthy, especially if relations were deteriorating. 

“Of course.” Wylan leaned forward to kiss Jesper on the cheek and he smiled, studying the way the shaded canopy made shadows on Wylan’s face. 

Frustrated by the books, Jesper tossed a few that seemed promising into a bag and they took the rest back to the library. 

It was late afternoon when they made it back to the farm, and Jesper decided to turn some of his frustration to the crops, turning his frustrations into dirt. His jurda flowers were on track to make a full recovery from the poison, which Jesper marveled at. The blossoms had gone from pale orange back to their normal vibrancy, and the earth didn’t seem to absorb the poison either. He thought about parem, wishing he understood the process of biological chemistry more. 

When dusk settled over the fields, he went inside where Wylan was still hard at work with sketches, his father looking over some correspondence. 

“You’ve got some mail, boy,” Colm said, gesturing at the small pile. Jesper looked it over - another from Marya (presumably for Wylan), Inej, Kaz, and Sefu. The last one surprised him, but he tucked it away in his pocket. The others he put back down on the table, and went over to where Wylan was poking around the remains of the Fjerdan pipe bomb.

“Jes,” he said. “I don’t think they blew up the ship in the harbor.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at this,” Wylan said, showing him the sketchbook. Jesper was blown away - analytical drawings of the existing pipe bomb they had, and what looked like directions of the explosion, based on what everyone at the club had said. The next pages were from the ship, and what both Jesper and Wylan saw, and witnesses reported. 

“Fascinating.”

Wylan glanced from the paper back to Jesper. “You have no idea what you’re looking at do you?”

“I have no idea what I’m looking at.” He shrugged. “Looks important.”

“Most people who make bombs have a type of signature on them. So you can identify patterns.”

“Do _your_ bombs have a signature?”

Wylan cut him a scathing look for interrupting that Inej would have been proud of. “Yes. But this bomb at the club was supposed to be found, right? That’s why they marked it with the rose. No one marked that ship that came in. And, it had refugees from everywhere including Fjerda in it, not just Ravkans and grisha. The types of explosion were different - the pressure bomb from the club had a lot of shards and shrapnel in it, and the ship was fire and heat explosion. They’re too big of differences.”

“I need the ship’s manifest and log,” Jesper said. “That’ll tell us more.” The Mchezaji Mpanda had been it's name. 

Colm sauntered in, carrying a big pot of vegetables and meat with curries. “Alright lads. No more politics at the table. Its time to eat.”

They talked about the upcoming planting seasons - the jurda superbloom was approaching, when they were at their peak, and then after that the entire field would be harvested and new crops planted before the rainy season began. The conversation was familiar to Jesper - he saw the ghosts of his parents discussing the same things together. The storage building would be full of the profitable blossoms, and he knew they would need more security around it. 

Wylan enthusiastically talked about trip wires, making the lines around Colm's eyes deepen. 

“I'll leave you two boys to that. How much longer have you got here Wylan?” Colm asked. 

“Only ten days.” 

The time had flown by for Jesper, yet so much had happened. He had no plans of going back yet, and he eyed the letter from Kaz. Probably another threat demanding he return to Ketterdam. 

“I have loved having you son,” Colm said to Wylan. He reached and pat the younger boy on the shoulder. “You're always welcome here.”

Jesper swallowed a mouthful of greens. “The Kaboyongas are going to help me explore different visas for Wylan,” he said. “And Marya. See what we can do, maybe go back and forth.” The thought of going to cold and dreary Ketterdam didn't appeal to him, but the thought of seeing Wylan did. And he promised to visit. They had enough money, it wasn't an issue. 

“Atiena will probably head the Council someday,” Colm mused. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk politics at dinner, Da.”

Colm bit back a smile. “Doesn’t apply to me.”

“Ouch,” Jesper said, but the mood was light. Even with the looming separation. 

Despite Colm’s insistence on separate rooms, Jesper and Wylan were sitting in his bed, looking at the letter Marya sent. 

_Dear Wylan,_

_I miss you terribly but I’m so glad you’re having a good time in Novyi Zem. Jesper, if you’re reading this, I miss you too. You’ve been away too long and Ketterdam is quite boring. I can’t get out of the house very much, all the markets are down by the docks and I’ve been warned to stay away from them. Some new sheet music came for you Wylan - I’ve enclosed it in the letter. I know you’ll be home soon but I know you’re impatient._

_The weather has been okay - not very much rain, but not too much sun. Have you been staying covered? I don’t want your skin to be too burnt when you’re back. Your friend with the tall hair and cane came by asking about you two. He’s escorting me to the docks to greet you next week. At least, I think it’ll be next week by the time this letter arrives._

She talked about her routine, and Jesper did his best to imitate the charming lilt and her quiet voice. She was the opposite of his own mother, who had been vivacious and extroverted. And also wasn't alive. 

When Wylan fell asleep on his shoulder, he looked at the rest of the letters. Despite being thin, the letter from Kaz weighed a ton in his hands. He set it aside. 

Instead he opened the one from Sefu.

_Jes,_

_I know we haven't had the chance to talk much between the farm, school, and training. I've enclosed some research about the history of Zowa along the east coast of Nyota Heri. I hope this serves you well._

_We miss you - I'm definitely not equipped like Atiena is. Stop by sometime will you?_

_Sefu._

There were at least five pages of meticulously handwritten notes and charts, describing the course of Zowa fear and acceptance through the ages. Even more detailed than Atiena’s lesson plans. The lines and likes of clear script must have taken hours. Hours he doubted Sefu had, taking care of Atiena's business. His heart warmed at the effort, and he simultaneously felt bad for avoiding him. Any sparks or feelings were in his head. The truth was, Sefu was a friend. They could remain that way.

Jesper worked hard on his patch of jurda while Wylan learned his new flute piece under the shade of a tree within earshot. The music was soothing as he tilled the earth and made sure they were growing healthy. After the poison, his jurda were growing even stronger. He was hesitant to turn them into edible goods, but would find some sort of use. 

The roots were different from the jurda he normally worked with. They were digging farther down, and the texture had changed. He yanked a few out and put them in a bag.

“Do you mind if I skip the Zowa training tonight?” Wylan asked. “I'm pretty tired and should start packing.”

Jesper shook his head. “No. I don't mind. I'll try not to stay too late.”

At Linaya and her wife's property, the Zowa were still training. The air was filled with gunshots, shouts, laughter, and the sound of sparring. There was a hazy glow from all the torches around the perimeter. He maneuvered through the various people, many of whom knew his name. And he could name them all. _When did that happen?_ he mused.

Sefu was sprawled out on a patch of grass, watching some zowa spar three on three. He was shouting suggestions at them as they did. When he noticed Jesper, he smiled and made space next to him. Jesoer watched the match, a sheer revelry of power, the glee of the fight between them as they worked together. 

“Is it weird knowing so much about zowa, and not being one?”

Sefu shook his head. “Not anymore. Maybe when I was young. But studying this let me study a lot of things.”

“I tried the studying thing and it was like grasping air.”

“Then find a way to breathe,” Sefu chuckled. “Anything new?”

“Global politics or me?”

“Both.”

Jesper told him about the farm and his dad. The disastrous school lessons. What Wylan had said about the explosions. 

Sefu looked through his bag, the brawl still raging on before them. Jesper's eyes went up as he saw a red leather book, discolored and shriveled from water damage. He tossed it at Jesper, who carefully turned the stiff pages. 

“So you just had this? In your bag? In case you needed to consult a waterlogged ship log?”

Sefu grinned, scrunching his nose in Kaboyonga fashion. “I carry a lot of things pertinent to the investigation with me. I don't trust the apartment right now. I've seen the same couple Fjerdans lurking the area.”

That was alarming. “Are you staying there? You need to stay safe.”

“I am, don't worry. I'm sleeping at a friend's place.”

Jes felt the familiar turn of jealousy in his stomach and squashed it. _No. Absolutely not,_ he scolded himself. Instead he studied the blurry scrawl, looking for the month of the wreck. 

“This ship docked in Ketterdam before it came to Ol'Umoyana. It was in Shu Han before that.” The gunpowder on the manifest most likely came from the Shu, and the iron from Kerch. He pulled out the list of documented people on the ship. There was never accounting for stowaways, but the ship did pick up many people from Ketterdam, refugees from Fjerda and Ravka. It would be easy to slip in an operative. 

He rubbed his temples again. “Why would the Kerch want to take out any Zemeni ships?”

Sefu rifled through his bag, and pulled out a map. “When the Kerch made maps for seafaring, they didn't want people to think it was close to Nyota Heri, but rather to Ravka and the eastern countries.” He showed Jesper the map. It was the one they all used. It was in every book. “But it's actually closer to here, it's just distorted because you can't draw globes on a flat surface.” Sefu pointed to an empty expanse of sea that was slightly East, but not practically off the coast of Ravka like before. “That's why Zemeni ships always stop there. But engineers at the University created sleek new ships that can cut down on transport time, so we don't need to stop there anymore. Even if you don't have a _lethavu_ onboard.”

Sefu pulled one of those new ball-point pens and scribbled on the map. He showed the outline of the new routes the ships could go, carrying Nyota Heri's many riches. Since Zowa were employed by the ships and considered good luck on them, they were typically well protected against pirates. Gold, gems, oil, palm oil, cacao, new technology, and exotic food from the resource-rich continent. 

“Do you have blank paper?” Jesper asked, and Sefu nodded. 

He jotted down everything he knew. The harbor explosion, the club bomb, the jurda poisoning. Parem, Ravkan saints, all of it.

Knowing there were at least two players involved made a lot more sense. But it also meant they were in danger. If the Kerch and Fjerda were both plotting against them, they were in danger. 

“Sefu this is bad. Atiena is a little vehement but she's right - Kerch is corrupt and ruthless and gold hungry. If they know Fjerda is attacking us too, it's already too late. They'll use their gold and Fjerdan military power to take us all out.” They wouldn't stand a chance like this. A militia of young people who trained at night. 

Panic coursed through him. These were wars between countries brewing, what was he doing here? This was different from guerilla tactics they'd been practicing for. 

Sefu was already writing a letter. “I need to tell the Council immediately. When Atiena returns we can see what she learned.” He glanced at Jesper, who was frozen, the worst possible outcomes running through his head. “Get up, Hilli.” He stood up and extended a hand towards Jesper. “You're going to fight me.”

“What?” 

“When I get too inside my head, I run and spar and exercise.”

Jes let himself look Sefu up and down. “You must get in your head a lot.” Then he accepted the help up. 

They found and empty patch of field. Sefu grabbed fighting sticks from a pile, tossing a pair to Jesper as well. 

“You know in a real fight I would have guns,” he yelled out. 

“You need to be able to fight close too,” Sefu said. “Or are you scared?”

“I've been in more fights than you.”

“Probably. But you don't have tall buildings and roofs to escape on here.” Sefu pointed a stick at him. “You need to confront things head on Hilli.”

Jesper felt called out. He twirled one of the sticks. “I can do that. Why do you call me Hilli?” He didn't want his Da to think he wasn't proud to be Kaelish too. 

Sefu shrugged. “I can call you Fahey.” 

“I don't mind.”

He barely had time to get into a stance when Sefu lunged towards him. Jesper instinctively reached out with his Zowa ability and latched onto the sticks in Sefu's hands, which bent into a useless L shape. Sefu dropped them, closing the rest of the distance and grabbing Jesper's collar.

Despite not wanting to hurt his friend, he kneed upwards, Sefu blocking with a forearm. He saw stars and sky when he was tossed onto his back, his dominant arm in a vice grip. Jesper searched for something to latch onto. He felt the gold clips in Sefu's locs, and more intangible things in his body that Jesper wasn't powerful enough to suss out. 

He went for the clips, dragging a few off and melding them together. He didn't want to hurt Sefu, not really. Sefu took advantage of the hesitation to deal a blow to his shoulder socket. 

He swore violently. 

“Don't treat me like a friend. We're sparring.” Sefu dropped Jesper's arm, giving him time to get up, and fetched a new pair of sticks. “You have something to get out. Might as well do it with me and a _umphulukisi_ nearby. What's hurting you Hilli-Fahey?”

This time Jesper was a little more prepared when Sefu aimed with his new sticks. He pivoted and blocked, not quick enough to avoid a smart hit to the legs. He swore again, but managed to get a blow to Sefu's ribs. He lurched to help when Sefu doubled over, only to find him swept off his feet again. Literally. 

“Are you sad Wylan is leaving?” 

Jesper begrudgingly let himself be helped up. He had the reddish Zemeni dirt covering his backside now. Itchiness overcame him when a _umphulukisi_ stopped any bruises that were forming. “Of course.”

“But not sad enough to go back to Ketterdam.” Sefu looked at him curiously. “Love has limits.”

“Its not that!” Anger flared to life. “I'm needed here. I'm useful here.”

“Hasn't that bird boy been asking you to come back?”

“The Crows. Yeah.” 

This time Jesper made the first move. He feigned left and was delighted when Sefu responded, and caught him with one of the sticks on the side. Jes quickly turned his own stick into a curve and hooked under Sefu's foot, repairing the splinters as they formed. Sefu gave him a kick to the stomach and then the shoulders again, numbing the power. They panted, Sefu watching as Jes circled and keeping his own weapons up. 

“You could leave whenever you want.” Sefu made a lunge that missed. “We would understand. You're not trapped here.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Jesper tried to get close again, only to be swiped away by a stick, Sefu sliding his leg underneath and jumping back up. 

“Jes, you're smart. You can speak lots of languages. You've helped us solve what's going on. Why be beholden to anyone?” 

There was a thwack to Jesper's neck that made his eyes sting, but he also got another hit to Sefu's thigh, which dropped him to a knee. There was no hesitation this time when Jesper leapt and tackled Sefu to the ground, using the still-straight stick on Sefu's neck. Applying pressure to where he told them to cut off blood flow. 

“I yield!” Sefu shouted. 

Jesper smiled as he immediately backed off, the two of them breathing heavy. That did feel good. The healers fixed them up quickly, and the only aches were phantom ones. 

“You really think all that about me?” He asked, holding a hand to Sefu. Both of their clothes were filthy from rolling around, and hair completely messed up. He grabbed the gold bands he’d melded together and undid his handiwork. 

“Of course.” Sefu stretched backwards, letting out a groan. “Do what makes you happy. Really happy. Not temporarily.”

“I haven't really considered that.” 

“Give it a try sometime. Not what bird boy says. Or Atiena, or Wylan, or your father, or me.” Sefu smiled at him. “But I do hope you stick around.”

Jesper thought a lot about his talk with Sefu as another Zowa gave him a ride back to the farm. He went to his room and grabbed the letter from Kaz, stepping back onto the porch. He struck a match and let it burn before putting it out in the Zemeni dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If curious what Atiena is up to, don't forget to read her fic titled Jurda, Gold, and Invisible Ships!


	16. Hamba Kahle

Despite his decision to be strong, Jesper was sobbing. Fat tears rolled down his face as he gripped Wylan, fingers digging into his back. He inhaled deeply, the scent of Nyota Heri mingling with the distinct smell that was Wylan van Eck. Colm was standing nearby, handing Wylan's bags over for inspection.

“I'm going to miss you,” Wylan squeaked. Identical tears were streaking down his cheeks. “I can't believe it's over.”

“I'll visit soon I promise. When things calm down a bit. We'll get you and Marya new visas.” Jesper's voice cracked. “I hope you had a good time.”

“Of course I did. It's so beautiful and so are you and-” Wylan dissolved into incomprehensible hiccups. Jesper used his thumb to wipe some of the tears off and they laughed together at their ridiculousness. Others around them were saying goodbyes but not as dramatic. 

The air was still cool - the sun was still low in the sky and it was almost chilly for Jes. He soaked in Wylan's face. The way the soft sun hit his cheekbones and highlighted his gorgeous eyes, even if they were shot red. His angular lips were puffy from the crying. The dramatic aquamarine backdrop and large ship behind him. And the way he looked back at Jesper with the same ardent affection. Fresh tears sprang in his eyes. 

Someone shouted that it was final call for boarding and Jes pulled him in for a final hug, and a shameless passionate kiss that lasted until Colm loudly cleared his throat. 

“I love you,” he said, finally letting go. " _Hamba kahle_." Colm gently urged Wylan to get into the boarding line, giving him an affectionate hug and hearty thump on the back. 

Jesper sniffed loudly, watching the strawberry blonde hair until Wylan disappeared onto the ship, the two boys mouthing _I love you_ in both Kerch and Zemeni until there was nothing to see.

“Come on lad,” Colm said, putting a hand on Jesper’s shoulder. “Lets get some breakfast.”

The city was just beginning to come alive. University students chatting and catching the street car, and businesses opening their doors to let in the cool air while it lasted. There was a small Kaelish-style restaurant they slipped into, run by another half Zemeni half Kaelish woman. Jesper never realized how common his heritage was as a kid. 

They ordered a Kaelish breakfast, Jesper picking at his hash while Colm tucked in. He was still sniffing and blinking rapidly.

“You're gonna be okay,” Colm said. “You're young and have plenty of time.”

“I liked having him here,” Jesper said. He ate a piece of bacon but it tasted like ash in his mouth. “Now he's back in Ketterdam, and I don't want to go there unless it's for him.”

“I understand. You don't have to go back there if you don't want to. But it's not going to be easy.” Colm gave him a sympathetic smile. “I did notice my no-sharing-a-bed rule was ignored.”

Jesper was thankful for his skin and the sun, or he would have turned beet red. Instead he muttered a half hearted apology.

“You liar, you're not sorry at all. I just want you to know, the distance won't ever get easier. And you're eighteen.” Colm frowned. “There's no guarantee the person you're with at eighteen will be forever.”

“Wylan _just_ left Da. Are you going to do this now?” He dropped his hand onto the table. “Wasn't Ma your great love?”

“My greatest. But she wasn't my first or only.”

Jesper waited for an explanation, but Colm resumed eating wholeheartedly, the owner stopping by to give them some more tea. He resented his father for bringing all this up now. Everything was miserable. What happened to the Colm that was happy for them in Ketterdam? Who let Wylan visit for months while the two had relatively little supervision?

Jes was surly the entire ride back, and the entire week thereafter. Only the little students were able to perk him up, with their relentless questions and high energy. Half the time they played outside behind the school and practiced their Zowa powers anyway.

At home, he usually laid in his bed, listlessly staring at the ceiling. He didn't even want to go to training, or talk to anyone for awhile.

Colm made him get out and work on the farm since the crops were on the edge of the supervision. The only thing that brought Jes out of his funk was a short letter from Sefu.

_Atiena is coming back tomorrow. Join us at the apartment?_

_Sefu_

So the next day, Jesper finally got up at a decent time, scrubbing his body and using coconut oil to moisturize before heading out to Ol'Umoyana. Instead of taking the train in, he saddled up Nguvu, taking a leisurely route. In the city, it was common to see vehicles, street cars, and horses now. 

On the quiet corner where the Kaboyangas lived, he scanned for any sign of the Fjerdans Sefu had been worried about. There weren't any signs but he still circled the block, making sure he couldn't see any signs of bombs.

Satisfied, he tied Nguvu up behind the building, grabbing a pail of water nearby, and knocked on the door. 

Atiena threw open the door. “Jesper Hilli Fahey!!!!!” she shouted, and threw her arms around him. He was startled, but then returned the hug. When she left, he had been anxious he ruined everything. Now that wasn't the case. She pulled him in, where a group had already gathered. Her hair was still braided for the journey, but she was casually dressed. A scarf was tied a few times around her chest, and she wore loose linen pants that billowed around her legs. 

“I've missed you all,” she said to him. “How is Baba Jes?”

“Good,” he said with a smile. “I'm so glad you're back and not married to the Tsar.” He tried to remember if Nina said anything about him. _But Nina always had good things to say about the Second Army, even if it wasn't that good._ He shoved the thought back. Nina was still his friend, even if he had no idea where she was or what she was up to. Last he knew, Nina was bringing Matthias home. But it was almost half a year now - that couldn't still be the case.

It was a whirlwind of hugs and catching up. He still choked up when he explained Wylan had gone back to Ketterdam. He didn't understand why it was still upsetting him so much. They did it before- why was this time so hard? It was like a stone in his stomach. 

Finally everyone settled in so that Atiena could talk. She seemed tired but also had a manic energy about her. She was stressed, and that worried Jesper more.

“What's the news _qhelu _?” Sefu asked. A qhelu was a small bird, and Jes figured it was a family nickname for Atiena.__

__“The whole thing was a sham. They were geared towards the Kerch and Shu the entire time. The Zemeni, Kaelish, and Fjerdans were there for show. The country is cold and there are people who are suffering needlessly. Half their problems would be solved abolishing the monarchy and distributing the gold in that palace to the people.”_ _

__Jes wondered at that. In Kerch, hoarding wealth was commonplace. And even in Nyota Heri there were wealthy people - the Kaboyongas among them. But he didn't see people suffering the same way. Zemenis took care of each other. He wondered about that. How two countries could be so different. And how one family could hoard everything from the rest._ _

__Southeastern Zemenis didn't have a palace or opulent building. They were functional, and places of worship were personal affairs. Shrines and altars inside the home. The closest thing to a fancy building in the Eastern part of the country was the University. He heard about architectural marvels further north, but didn't have the chance to see them._ _

__“Thanks to Jesper I made contact inside with a member of the Second Army.” He perked up. “The news was not good. It seems we have more enemies than we thought. The Kerch have made a play to get new ship schematics from Ravka. Fjerda is marching on the country, and the Kerch want to use these new super secret ships, potentially against us.”_ _

__‘That makes no sense,” someone piped up. “The Ravkans know they need us, especially our ships if they hope to survive a conflict against Fjerda.”_ _

__“The ocean is the only place we may have an advantage,” Atiena said. “We can't sustain any kind of battle on land right now since we have no standing army. But all of our merchant ships have highly trained security, cannons, and are expert wayfarers.” Jes knew little about the ocean, but he did know that pirates were a pest to trade. Especially the valuable materials sold by Nyota Heri._ _

__“Why would the Ravkans risk that?” Jesper asked “I understand the Kerch wanting to take us out, but why would Ravka risk it? It's suicidal.” But he knew the answer. He worked with Kaz enough._ _

__“Gold. Which we have in abundance here so it means little to us. But I also believe they think Zemenis are not cunning. That we would not figure out their double crossing.”_ _

__Jes didn't know how that could be the case, but then he did remember when he first moved to Ketterdam. His Kerch was sub par, and people either thought he was invisible, or hyper fixated on him._ _

__“What if Kerch and Fjerda are working together?” Jesper said. “What if they're trying to lure Ravka and Nyota Heri into a conflict we cannot win?”_ _

__The room went silent._ _

__Atiena's eyes widened, and Jes continued. “We thought it was religious extremism. What if it's much simpler? Attacking our crops, the bombings. Trying to weaken morale and divert us from the bigger plot? In Ketterdam, we used to do that all the time.” He remembered when the wrong ship was bombed before they went to Fjerda. Because of him._ _

__“No no no,” she whispered. “It makes perfect sense.”_ _

__“Would the Kerch start a war with us over something like gold? And trade?” Sefu asked. He was nervously wringing his hands. “An attack to inspire fear is different from working with Fjerda to decimate what we have.”_ _

__Jesper nodded, thinking of the Council of Tides. “They would. They're not like Nyota Heri.”_ _

__“We need to tell the Elders. They'll know what to do.” Atiena chewed on her fingets. “Jesper, Sefu, you're coming with me. Nandi is still at my parent's residence.”_ _

__“You want me to speak to the Elders?” Jesper was incredulous. Even as a child, they were some fabled all knowing group, gray haired and somber. But the Kaboyongas couldn't be much older than Colm. “You don't need me.”_ _

__“Your experience in Ketterdam and relationship with Nhaban will lend credibility. The evidence is damning, and we need them to prepare for the worst.”_ _

__“Where would we be going?”_ _

__“Northeastern city of Dinigayi.”_ _

__Jesper had heard about it before. The ancient stone city, made by _nabaluki_ like him. A wonder of the ancient world. “I should probably talk to my dad.”_ _

__* * * * *_ _

__Using a cart powered by a _’moylilo_ , they made it to the farm in record time, where Colm seemed bewildered at the new turn of events. “I wanted you to leave the house but this is a little much, Jesper. The crops will need to be picked in no less than a week. I need you back then. And what about the schoolkids?”_ _

__“They'll be fine Baba Jes,” Atiena piped up. “Liyana will take over. This isn't their main education, they still attend their community schools.”_ _

__Colm didn't seem convinced, looking from Atiena to Jesper. He began speaking in hushed Kaelish. >>I don't want you thinking you can shirk responsibilities whenever it's convenient. If you're living here, you need to make sure you're not running amok like in Ketterdam. I expect you back here in four days.<<_ _

__The seriousness took him by surprise. >>Its for the good of all of us, Da. The Kerch are -<<_ _

__> >Fuck the Kerch, Jes.<< They both looked startled at Colm's language. >>You are losing yourself in this. I can see it. You came here to be Jesper Llewellyn Fahey. Not a crow or a revolutionary. I thought you you found something you enjoyed with the farming and teaching. Are you doing all this because you want to, or because you're going along with it?<<_ _

__The room was quiet. Atiena and Sefu were clearly uncomfortable, shifting on their feet._ _

__> >I don't know Da,<< he said, scratching the back of his head. >>I just know I feel useful. I'm no good at doing one thing, like you. I try, but I'd rather do a lot of things. I promise I'll be back. I don't want to disappoint you again.<<_ _

__Colm's face softened. >>Stay safe.<<_ _

__Jes nodded, and looked sheepishly at his friends. Atiena immediately went to work placating Colm, who began a pot of tea. He let the siblings entertain while he packed a small bag of clothes and toiletries._ _

__With Colm's blessing (in no small thanks to Atiena's charm), the trio went to the train station and began their journey North to Dinigayi. It was around five or six hundred kilometers away, and even on the fastest trains in Nyota Heri would take all night._ _

__Jesper had no idea when he fell asleep. Bu t he was gently woken up by Sefu tapping his shoulder. “Look out the window,” he whispered. The train was dark and most of the passengers were still asleep._ _

__The had arrived at Dinigayi._ _


	17. Dinigayi

Where Ol'Umoyana was a metropolitan and modern port city, the walls stretching above were ancient behemoths. Jesper was wide eyed as he watched the city grow closer, nestled in the mountainside. The _dega habis_ was daunting. Jesper had seen sketches of the city walls but nothing compared to seeing it in person. 

The stone city was rumored to be forged by the first _nabaluki_ inspired by the ancestors to protect against an ancient flood. They turned the earth in on itself to dig out the precious material, making it smoother than any surface in the world. 

Carved along the mountain and made out of the mountain, the soft sunrise showed the many terraces. Each wall had its own elaborate design and slightly different hue. The outside was tall with huge arches and columns besides each one, allowing people to move in and out. Jesper knew that _nabaluki_ were trained to slam them shut. A remnant from the ancient wars between different regions of Nyota Heri. 

“People like you made that,” Sefu whispered to Jesper. The design was so flawless it couldn't have been made by anyone other than zowa. 

The train slowed down to a moderate speed as it went through the wall, and Jesper wasn't prepared for the spectacle. 

While the walls had been ancient beauty, the insides were ornate works of art in a modern setting. The train station was massive. “This is the main stop before they go through the desert or down South,” Atiena whispered. “If it's going to the ports of Ol'Umoyana, it's passing through here. Our city connects Nyota Heri to the world, but Dinigayi connects the country to itself.”

Men bustled about in macawis, with elaborate headwear, directing train passengers. The people were lighter complexioned than in the South, but Jesper was many people from all over. He recognized the geles from the West, and head coverings from the Bedu and Berber in the North. It was resplendent, and backed by the high redbrown ceilings of the station. 

They exited the train, Jesper not sure what to look at. Birds flitted overhead, and it took him a moment to realize there was _nabaluki_ glass above, showing off the clear sky. Atiena had to tug his hand along. 

“We'll have time to look later,” she said. Sefu quickly gave some money to a woman handing out pastries, getting enough for each of them. 

Outside the station, Jesper saw markets that made him think of home, people haggling in the many Zemeni dialects with each other. He yearned to look and explore but he was already being lead to a new area, a hundred meters deeper into the mountainside. 

An attendant was standing next to what looked like an innocuous stone circle. In a dialect that was unfamiliar, Atiena spoke with them and gave them a few gold coins. 

“Grab the bar,” she told Jesper. He saw it, and grabbed curiously. 

Sefu scrunched his nose. “I HATE this part.”

“What part?”

The engraved stone circle shook, and he whipped around. Just then, he noticed that the attendant had a talisman around their neck. Air from above shifted, and suddenly they were shooting up.

Atiena let out a shriek of laughter, Jesper screamed, and Sefu closed his eyes. 

When it slowed down and came to a stop, his stomach lurched. Sefu looked ashen, and after a moment of being perfectly still, turned and threw up in a wastebin waiting on the side. 

“You could have warned me,” Jesper said. 

Sefu looked miserable, but Atiena had an ear splitting smile. “The most fun you can have. Only the elderly and diplomats are supposed to use that one, but I didn't want to waste time on the community lifts. We're on the fifth terrace now.”

Jesper walked to an observation deck nearby and instantly became dizzy. 

He had no idea human beings could be this high up a manmade structure. The people down on the ground by the train depot were like bugs moving around, the trains themselves like toys. Sprawled past the city was a giant valley. Part of it was fertile and great for growing crops if he remembered correctly. He knew to the North of the mountain were the Great Sands. _I wish I had paid more attention to geography,_ He thought. _Why do I know more about Kerch and Ravkan terrain than my own?_

“Wanna join us on the edge?” Atiena called out to Sefu, who promptly threw up again. She chuckled. “I love doing that to him. He hates coming here.”

“This place is incredible.” Jesper leaned forward and the wind tossed his finger coils around, which were barely starting to loc. “Are there other cities like this?”

“This? No. But there are other great cities of Nyota Heri. Najima-bahr is to the north. Several in the West. There was one on the Southern tip but that has been lost to us.”

“What happened to it?”

“Ravka.” she shrugged. “Lets get to my mom's home here - I need to rest.”

The homes in the diplomatic quarter were nice, but modest. Sefu, having fully recovered from his elevator ordeal, explained them. 

Like everything else, the buildings were made out of the mountainside or from local quarries. There was ventilation running through them that kept it cool in the warm months, and could shut close to keep them warm. Multiple families could live in a building, one on each floor. There were lively and cosmopolitan shops dotting the main thoroughfare. 

Atiena lead them to a gated home that had jurda and other flowers decorating it. He noticed that other homes had the symbols of their region on them. “Are there diplomats from other countries here?”

Sefu nodded. 

The home was opulent - beautifully decorated with large windows. A girl who looked half Zemeni and half something greeted them. “Miss Kaboyonga! Good to see you again.”

“I told you to call me Atiena. Jesper, this is Rebekah, she works for my mom as an attendant.”

She looked at Jesper with such sincerity it made him uncomfortable. She was dressed in a light dress and ushered them in. “Elder Kaboyonga will be with you shortly. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I would love some food. Any food. And water,” Sefu piped up. 

“Of course. Anything for you Jesper?”

“Uh. Whatever Sefu is having.”

They sat down in the sitting area, the siblings making themselves at home. Jesper sat on edge, wrapping his head around the morning he had. A city from fairy tales. The home of one of the most powerful people in the country. Looming war. And now that he was still again, he remembered how much he missed Wylan. 

Rebekah whisked her way in, carrying a comically large tray full of bread with different dipping sauces, fruits , and drinks. Sefu settled around it, immediately shoveling food into his mouth with a happy smile. Jesper couldn't resist the fresh cut mango and popped a piece in his mouth. 

The majority of the food had disappeared into their mouths when a woman stepped out. 

Her graying locs were pulled back with a headscarf, and she was like a taller and leaner version of Atiena. Jesper immediately stood up as a sign of respect, only to be stared at by the Kaboyongas. The Elder Councilwoman looked amused. “You must be Aditi's son.”

That was the last thing he expected to hear. The shock must have registered on his face because she chuckled. “We were school friends and rivals. You favor her.” She extended a hand to him. “If my wretched children haven't poisoned you against me, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Hiari Kaboyonga.”

“Jesper Fahey.” Shaking her hand, he was in awe. 

“That's right. Your father is the Kaelish man. Farmer, right?”

He nodded. 

“Atiena and Sefu have spoken highly of you. Please, sit down. Make yourself at home.” She settled herself onto a high back chair. “So my errant daughter has returned again to tell me how to run the country.”

Atiena rolled her eyes. “Very funny mama. Is the Council assembling this afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Are you sure you're ready to do this? You know how frustrating the whole thing is.”

“Yes. I want to give my testimony, and then allow Jesper to tell his side and personal experience in Ravka.” The two women looked at Jesper and he was nervous. “They might know the Kerch but Jesper has seen the merchant class and their secret dealings.”

Jesper became interested in the bottom of his glass when three pairs of eyes swung to him again. 

“I can't promise it'll go the way you hope, but they'll at least hear what you have to say, especially about Ravka. Your father has briefed me but it would be best if they heard your report.”

After that, Jes watched as the conversation became familial. He stated at Hiari, wanting to ask her more about his mother. What was she like as a child? How well did they know each other? Did she like sweets, or reading, or animals? Useless information he wanted to know more than anything else. Even his Da hadn't met her until she was in her twenties. What was it like, growing up before and during industrialization? By his calculation, his mother would be 43 if she was still alive. 

Instead they talked about the school and the kids. Hiari seemed thrilled at the idea of more zowa children learning to hone their ability. “Without them it would have taken decades for the transportation system to be built between regions. Thanks to zowa it took maybe eight or nine years.”

“Was it just _nabaluki_ like in Dinigayi?” Jesper asked. 

“Heavens no. They kept the winds away from the worksite, and created oases throughout the North to keep workers safe. Made sure everyone was well taken care of. Nyota Heri owes a great deal to zowa.”

That explained why it had changed so much in such a short time, even when he was away at Ketterdam. He zoned out as the family talked, taking in the richly decorated home. 

"Alright children," Haifa said. "Its nearly time for the hearing."

* * * * *

In a nondescript building on the side of a mountain, Jesper faced the most powerful people in the country. All genders and all regions of Nyota Heri were there, identifiable by features and clothing. Haifa was the youngest one, but settled into her chair with a regal grace. Two scribes sat in the corner, writing quickly and documenting.

The chairs were surrounding a large round table, and the ceiling was designed to amplify voices. Three chairs had been added for the guests.

"Let the record show that Elder Kaboyonga is related to two of the speakers today," Haifa began. "We are holding a special counsel concerning Atiena Kaboyonga's recent trip to Ravka, and terrorist activity occurring in the Southeastern region."

An older Elder with short white hair and thin artistic scars lining their face spoke first. "Please state your names."

"Atiena Kaboyonga."

"Sefu Kaboyonga."

"Jesper Fahey," he said, suddenly nervous. There was so much power focused on him. What if he mucked it up?

"Jesper Fahey?" A Councilwoman asked.

"Jesper Llewellyn Fahey."

"Not very Zemeni," a councilman scoffed. "That's a Kaelish name. Do you have ties to Nyota Heri?"

"Yes sir," Jesper responded. His blood ran hot under his skin from embarrassment. "I grew up outside Ol'Umoyana on a farm. My father is Kaelish."

Hiari interrupted them. "I can vouch for the boy, I was schoolmates with his mother."

They nodded and motioned for Atiena to begin. She weaved a story telling what had happened in Ol'Umoyana so far. Despite knowing most everything, and hearing her talk about it multiple times before, he still wondered at her oratory skills. What she could do in a place like Ketterdam, as a queen of Ravka, or sitting across the table. 

A councilman turned to Jesper. "Why are you here?”

Jesper froze up. It was more terrifying than any class he had taken in Ketterdam, where he flourished under the attention of other students. There, they had underestimated him for being Zemeni, and then he talked circles around them. Here, among his countrymen, he felt inconsequential. He didn’t know enough, hadn’t been involved the last few years.

Sefu spoke up this time. “He has spent time in Ketterdam and with the Ravkan soldier who provided our information. He is well versed in languages and cultures outside of a diplomatic circle. He is also a hero in both bombings, where he saved lives. He also saved a substantial amount of jurda crops from contamination with his quick thinking."

Heat rushed to Jesper's face at the way Sefu described him. Even if it was technically true, he didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a murderer trying to redeem himself. 

They began to grill him about Ketterdam, and he answered as truthfully as he could. The Council of Tides, the corruption of the merchant class, and the underhanded politics. He described in detail Wylan's findings.

By the time they were done grilling him, his mouth was dry and his shirt stuck to his skin. But Sefu gave him a small smile, while Atiena reached over and squeezed his hand, mouthing 'thank you' at him. 

"The Council needs to discuss this amongst ourselves," an elder exclaimed imperiously. "You three and the scribes are dismissed."

They went into a smaller room with large windows reinforced by _nabaluki_ and comfortable low chairs. Jesper stared out at the garden, trying to keep from floating away. He reached into his bag to find a snack, but instead felt an envelope. 

He pulled out Kuwei's letter, which had been forgotten in the heyday of getting to Dinigayi. 

_Jesper,_

_I'm glad you understood the letter I sent before. Zemeni is a difficult language but at least it sounds better than Kerch._

_I don't know when the next time I can send an honest letter will be. Tell Atiena thank you._

_Do you remember when you all found me in Fjerda? I was alone and terrified and suddenly I was thrown into your world. So much death and terror, even with people who freed me. And a cruel boy my age. He treated me no better than the Ice Court. I would have liked some kindness, so I turned my back to Ketterdam._

_But now I am surrounded by people who are pretending to be friends, who are really enemies. And it is ten times worse._

_The Ravkans may have encouraged me to train, and my powers far surpass their expectations. But they only train me so I can help them. Not for me. It's cold here and the people are cold. Nyota Heri sounds warm, from what Atiena says._

_Someday you'll need to tell me what it's like returning home and seeing your father again. Even though the government experiments ok Grisha in Shu Han, I miss it. Sometimes I think about visiting the borderlands, being with the people there. They are very different than those in the cities where my father and I came from._

_Sometimes I forget he's dead. I wonder if my mother thinks I'm dead too. If you were here, I would ask if it gets easier. (I know your mom isn't here - I saw the way your father looked like he was half lost)._

_I'm saying all these words even though you won't be able to write back candidly because you are the only one who knows and understands what happened to me. And I need to get out the words._

_I'm staying here because maybe it'll help protect you. That's it. You weren't particularly nice to me, but you were nicer than the others. And Ravka doesn't deserve to win either. They are sneaky and deceptive and are trying to bend treaties. That reminds me of Fjerda. Of Ketterdam. And I don't want it. Shu Han is lost to me for now, but you can't lose Nyota Heri._

_I'll see you again someday._

_Kuwei_

Jesper read it over and over again. Words were scratched out and rewritten painfully in Zemeni, carefully chosen and picked over. Some sentences were out of place but he could read it, and remembered his own painful lessons in Kerch, and how the consonants felt heavy and harsh. Being a foreigner in a strange and hostile land. Kuwei had put a lot of effort into it, all with elegant penmanship. 

He started reflecting on his time with Kuwei. He'd been so caught up in everything, he wasn't kind. Jesper hadn't treated Kuwei any better, despite the fact he knew what it was like to be a foreigner with visibly different features and skin. If he saw Kuwei again, Jesper would make it up to him.

When Haifa finally opened the door, hours had passed. The three of them were scattered across the room, too work out to talk to each other. Atiena pacing, Jesper lost in his thoughts, and Sefu with his nose in a book.

They filed in to the room, where the elders looked just as tired as they did. 

"We've come to a conclusion," Haifa began. "By a vote of six to five, at the end of this calendar month we will no longer be allowing immigration from Kerch, Ravka, or Fjerda unless they apply for asylum from their home countries. Until the leadership can assure us they do not have harm to Nyota Heri in mind, we cannot take any more risks to our people. The visa process will be temporarily suspended."

There was a moment of silence, and Haifa pursed her lips, looking down. 

"You can't do that," Atiena whispered. Her eyes were wide.

"You're closing our borders?" Sefu asked. "That's not the answer. You're going to get zowa killed. That's what Fjerda wants."

Haifa looked straight ahead, past her children. "In addition, communication outside of strictly regulated governance will halt with Kerch. Effective immediately."

Jesper's heart thudded in his chest. 

The borders of Nyota Heri were closing to the Kerch, and his plan to bring Wylan over went up in smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its my birthday! Leave a comment if you're enjoying so far. As always, thanks for reading along.


	18. Jurda

Atiena stood up, a contemptuous look on her face. She gripped the table with white knuckles. The edge of Jesper's body felt fuzzy, like he was floating away and watching from the outside. Even mild mannered Sefu looked angry. 

"How dare you tell us what to do, little girl," a Councilwoman from the North said, golden brown eyes narrowed. "It is only temporary until we can figure out how to keep our citizens safe."

"This is a decision based on fear, not facts," Sefu said. "The fact is, we need to shore up the defense of our ships and trade routes, and establish greater intelligence operations, not punish the helpless."

"Ravka and Fjerda have been sending ships here full of people without a care for decades. They took land from Zemenis for their own use, taking advantage of our tribal system a century ago. They act entitled to our land, our markets, and our people. Now that we have organized and can retaliate, they think we are out of place. Then they dare bring war to our borders." A round man with rings covering his fingers shook his head. "They call themselves settlers and frontiersmen. But they are simply colonizers."

"Colonizers under the Ravkan flag are different from zowa who are murdered or experimented on, or who don't want to be doomed to fight," Atiena pleaded.

"In Fjerda, they hang the keftas of murdered grisha," Jes piped up. They stared at him, and he still felt outside of his body. He thought about Nina's reaction to the horrific sight, how she whirled around with fury at Matthias. But no one asked how he felt, looking at that horrific display of Fjerdan bigotry. That was why he refused go to Ravka to train. He would end up dead for a cause he didn't believe in. 

"When they kill a Grisha, they hang their bloody kefta like a flag."

"Barbarians," Atiena whispered. "We are enabling them."

"Miss Kaboyonga, please control yourself."

“Why are you asking me to control myself when innocent lives are in the balance?” Atiena stood up, jaw clenched defiantly. “You are making a deadly mistake.”

“Atiena -” Hiari said in a sharp tone. “The Fjerdans and Ravkans made a mistake by betraying our trust, and bringing violence to our shores. The Kerch have showed their hand as well.”

They all stared at the woman. Atiena’s face softened. “You voted in favor?”

Hiari nodded. “There is so much more at stake.”

* * * * *

Back at the house, Atiena and Hiari were in a screaming match. Jesper and Sefu were sitting upstairs in the library, but the voices of the women could be heard from down below. Jes thumbed through books, not soaking in the words. He tried to think of ways to get a letter to Wylan. To communicate somehow. For now, Nyota Heri would only be open to the Wandering Isles, and some of the other smaller nations in the world, but not their formerly largest trading partners. 

Jesper hated that it made sense. The East had overplayed their hand, treating Nyota Heri like an ignorant younger child who wouldn’t figure out their games. He had been hoping that this Council of Elders - some of the most intelligent and worldly people on the whole continent, would have been able to figure out a solution that helped everyone. 

“Does this bother you?” he asked Sefu, who was sitting perfectly still in a chair, staring into space. 

“What part?”

“Mostly the two of them fighting downstairs.”

Sefu sucked his teeth. “It happens. They need to yell it out, before they can talk reasonably. They’re both very passionate.”

“Clearly.” He didn’t have any idea how they could come back from this. He tried to take Sefu’s lead and sit calmly, but his mind was racing and his leg bounced. He hadn’t been this restless since his days in Ketterdam, when he never used his powers. What would happen when Wylan didn’t hear from him? When he couldn’t send the letters? Maybe the embassies could do something. 

His very skin felt like it was vibrating by the time Atiena came up, looking worse for the wear. She had dark circles under her eyes and her shoulders sagged. Sefu put down his book and looked her up and down. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re leaving,” she said. “Today.”

“Well hang on - we came out all this way and Jesper has three days until he has to be back. Lets spend one more night here, sight see a little bit, and then take the night train back to Ol’Umoyana.”

She looked at Jesper, who put his hands up and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. But we’re staying in a hotel.” 

At the hotel, Jes let Atiena slow his heart rate and breathing down, the only way he would get a decent night's sleep. In the morning he was weary, but still determined to see more of Dinigayi. Atiena was still grumpy when they left, but she kept the grumbling to a minimum while Sefu shared details about the architecture, and they went to a museum.

Beautiful artwork by Zemenis filled three floors of a block, and Jesper was amused to find small sections dedicated to the other countries. The Kerch widely thought themselves the best of art, but Jesper couldn’t compare the dark canvases to the gorgeous statues and jewelry by his own people. Art in everyday objects, as well as some on canvases in an Eastern style. 

A special exhibit on ethnic minorities in Ravka made him miss Inej. The crows were scattered across oceans now, and he was momentarily sad. Despite everything. But then Sefu got his attention to show him a giant golden piece of art from the West, and he was glad for his new friends.

They were eating lunch on a cafe terrace when a young boy ran up to them. He was breathing heavily, holding a letter in his hand. 

"Elder Kaboyonga requests that you meet her back at your hotel."

Jes stared between them. "How did she know we were here?"

"She's a Councilwoman, she can find anyone in the city," Sefu replied. Even he was looking irritated at their mother. Jesper wondered if he would have had any fights with his own mom. But she was gone, and he shoved the feelings down. 

They took their time finishing food before heading back to the hotel. 

Haifa was waiting in the lobby. Gone was the regal bearing in her shoulders from the day before. Jes thought she looked like an ordinary woman, in a loose dress and sandals. 

"Atiena, just be quiet for a moment," Haifa said immediately. Atiena looked livid but pursed her lips. "I wanted you three to hear it from me first. There's been an attack on an oil field near the Northern capitol Najima-bahr. The Council is debating whether to declare it an act of war by Fjerda. If you have the resources and access to other zowa, you need to get them together. Now."

Atiena's face softened and she gave a firm nod. They hugged each other before Sefu joined in. Jesper was uncomfortably aware of their closeness. The fact they were a family. But Haifa motioned for him to hug her.

"Write me sometime Jesper. I'd like to talk about your mother."

"Thank you Mama Sefu," he replied. 

Their trek to the train station was somber, despite Sefu needing to throw up again after the lift to the ground level. Jesper absentmindedly patted his back, soaking in the last of Dinigayi. Atiena was shifting with restless energy, occasionally jotting down notes and mumbling to himself. 

He slept fitfully when he managed to doze off, but he spent most of the train ride looking out the window at the scenery of Novyi Zem. 

By the time he arrived on the farm he was bone tired. Colm was on the porch in a chair and visibly relaxed when Jesper gave him a hug. 

"Glad you're back son." He looked Jesper up and down. "Get some rest."

Back home, with the comfort of his father's presence and the familiar smell of jurda, Jesper was finally able to fall asleep. 

In the morning life felt more manageable, and he was ready to work. The heady scent of the jurda was intoxicating, and when he was out in the fields, he gasped at the sight. An endless blanket of saturated orange that he hadn't seen for years, juxtaposed against a flawless blue sky. 

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Colm asked. He gave Jes a one-armed hug. 

"Bloomin'," Jesper replied with a smile. Then they joined the rest of the workers out in the fields. It was brutal work, taking out the jurda plants and trying not to crush the potent blossoms themselves, safely storing them in sheds where they would be turned into a multitude of products or sold abroad. Colm hired dozens of extra workers for the projects, employing Zemeni boys and girls looking for extra money. Jesper recognized a few from his childhood.

He corralled a few of them to work on his little acre, which he would keep separate from Colm's. 

Jesper had them separating roots from the blooms well into the evening, finally getting relief from the heat as the sun hit the hills. It was dark by the time Colm called him in - despite the moonlight, there was no reason to work in the dark. 

He carried a bag of jurda root with him, massaging his aching muscles. 

In the house he saw Sefu, who was standing at a table filled with food, and several of the workers were munching on delicious smelling goat and sauces. He waved Jes over with a breathtaking smile.

"I brought food for you all. I haven't worked at my food stand in awhile and I missed it." He handed Jesper a skewer, and a small bowl of his favorite sauce. The same Jes ordered every time. 

"Thank you Sefu," Jesper said. "I appreciate it. But I really don't want to talk about Dinigayi right now."

"No war talk. Just food." 

They sat on the floor in the living room, Colm making sure everyone was well hydrated before they went home. Sefu didn't stick around, saying he needed to make sure Atiena didn't destroy their apartment.

Physically exhausted but mentally awake, Jesper dragged himself to the kitchen. He pulled some jurda roots out of his rucksack and decided to slice it up. He remembered Inej making root teas in Ketterdam, maybe his altered jurda would work. Or maybe he was about to poison himself. 

He sliced the roots in thin strips and tossed them into boiling water left by avid tea drinker Colm. When it steeped for around twenty minutes he poured some into a mug and gingerly took a sip.

And spit it right back out. It needed some honey, since the bitter taste of the petals was only amplified in the roots, plus it tasted a bit like dirt.

With honey, he found it bearable and probably not poisonous. 

Sitting in the kitchen with his altered-jurda tea, Jesper closed his eyes. He felt calm. His mind wasn’t racing, and he wasn’t stressed about whatever future Nyota Heri was catapulting towards. In fact - he felt completely different. Out of curiosity, he reached for his zowa powers and tried to mold the cup. He could, but it was sluggish. Sedated. But he didn’t feel like he was repressing his powers. Instead, everything felt muted. 

It was the opposite of parem.

It was like the entire world opened up in Jesper’s head. Jurda root was the undesireable part of the plant - tough and gritty, it didn’t create the pleasant buzz like the petals did. And he had been fiddling with the roots with his zowa powers to make them extra absorbent of any chemicals or poisons in the crops. What if he inadvertently made them tamper down on everything - including the effects of parem?

Jesper knew very little about the scientific process, and he wished more than anything to speak to Kuwei about it. About how his father worked in a laboratory. But the key hadn’t been in a scientific lab, but out on the fields in the sun where Jesper had cut his teeth. 

He stayed up all night fiddling with the root, going so far as to gnaw on it between his teeth, each time testing his zowa abilities. Every time, he felt sedated, and it took around an hour for him to return to normal. But parem had altered Nina’s powers completely - would the root be able to help with that? He had so many questions, and was still tinkering when his father woke up in the morning.

“What are you doing son?” Colm asked, rubbing his eyes. Jesper already made breakfast and put a plate out for his father, a mess of jurda on the kitchen counter. His hands were stained orange. “Didn’t you sleep? We have a long day again.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jes dismissed. He held up fistfuls of the stalks, a wide smile on his face. “But I think I found a way to fight parem.”


	19. Ngiyakuthanda

Despite Colm insisting on Jesper staying inside and sleeping, Jesper went right back out to work on the fields, fueled by excitement. He paid a worker to run a message to Sefu and Atiena, and threw himself into the fields and storage buildings. 

They took care preserving the blooms, Jesper using his _nabaluki_ gift to help keep them in stasis, and transport across the True Sea. He was getting more proficient, more accurate than ever before in his life. Training with Atiena and Sefu, teaching at the school, and being home - It was all making him stronger. 

The siblings made their way over in the afternoon, and Colm made everyone stop working to avoid the high sun. 

The three of them sat under Aditi's tree with large jugs of water. 

"So parem is a huge advancement for Zowa, but it pretty much kills you and turns you into something new. That's what the Shu are running with at least, but what if we could make the effects temporary?" Jesper said excitedly, acutely aware of the dark bags under his eyes. "I have no way to know for sure yet but… I have a strong feeling in my gut. I know I'm right. The East spent so much time in the lab but not with the jurda itself, since it won't grow anywhere else."

He gently used his power to open up the roots, exposing the pale orange insides. "I bet we could make it super condensed. Like a stone you swallow or something." They needed agriculturists, not scientists right now. 

Atiena smiled. "Then we could safely use parem without risking ourselves, especially if the Kerch or Fjerda launch a formal attack."

Jesper nodded. But also - It could transform Novyi Zem. Years of industry and working with Zowa had industrialized the nation beyond recognition, what would happen now? It was terrifying and wonderful. Without any training, Kuwei parted a sea. What could an _inlilo_ accomplish with a controlled dosage of parem? 

Nina's exceptional powers had faded and left her with a desperate addiction. 

"As soon as we have a hypothesis we need to find someone to test it on," Sefu said. He looked grin. "Jesper, you said it was unstable. It made Zowa unstable."

"Yes but when Nina used it, she didn't turn on us as a Grisha. She tried to manipulate us for more parem but that was it. If parem activates your fight or flight, then you probably don't attack your friends."

"Then we can't ethically try it on an already powerful zowa," Sefu said, glancing at Atiena. "We don't need Atiena putting the entire Ravkan coast in a coma. It has to be someone we can take on if need be." 

It was logical. Atiena was already one of the strongest Zowa they'd ever seen. The thought of her losing her temperament on a drug like parem made no sense. 

"I can do it," Jesper said, before he could think too long. "I'm adequate at best. And I've fought addiction before and won. Kinda. And I've seen what it does to somebody."

"Don't be foolish," Sefu said. "You don't have to."

"What if I want to? It was my idea. Nobody should risk themselves if I'm wrong."

Sefu opened his mouth to argue but Atiena cut him off. "We'll discuss it. But for now, we need to test what we can."

The agreed to search for some people they knew were addicted to other substances - chewing jurda, tobacco, or opium. Then they could see how the root worked with others in a milder form.

When the Kaboyongas left, Jesper settled in against the tree, finally feeling like he was making up for all the wrong he'd done. Things he stole and people he murdered, all at the behest of a Kerch boy he was doing fine without. He missed Wylan, and hated the uncertainty. But he felt _good_ with this breakthrough. 

Jesper wasn't aware he had fallen asleep under Aditi's tree until Colm was gently waking him up. 

"Why don't you come inside. Everyone's gone," he said in soft Kaelish. Jesper nodded and let his dad help him up. 

"I'm glad you made it back from Dinigayi in one piece," Colm started when they made it inside. "What is it looking like?"

Jesper filled his father in on the trip. He described the awe-inspiring city and its advancements, and then the council meeting. 

"I remember Haifa," Colm said. "I didn't know her well. Just that your mother was friends with her." He mulled over the news. "This is bad Jesper. Running around with a gang in Ketterdam is bad enough. You've been at the center of one international incident, are you trying to be in another?"

"It's not that I want to," Jes replied, sheepishly twirling a corkscrew curl. "But I feel like I'm doing something right this time." He could help save a lot of people, and his mother had died trying to save _one_ person. That could be worth putting himself at the mercy of parem. 

“You are all I have left,” Colm said, cutting through Jesper’s thoughts. Guilt smothered the notion of being a hero. He loved his father more than anyone else alive, and couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him more. And maybe his mum wouldn’t want Jesper to risk leaving Colm either. There was a dilemma. “I know you and your friends are determined to save us all but just think about that.”

“I will, Da.” He smiled when Colm leaned forward and kissed the top of his head, like his parents did when he was young. His mum would wrap him up tight in a blanket and they would make him laugh. He missed the laughter the most.

They ate a simple dinner - spiced vegetables with bread and sauce, before going to bed. 

When he woke up, Jesper decider to get a head start on the farm work, heading outside to check on the chickens and horses. His mind was always racing, but at least with farm work he was preoccupied, and a lifetime of the same chores meant he didn't drop the tasks, like he always did. Or maybe he was starting to grow up.

He decided to eat breakfast by his mother's tree again. The pink blossoms had since faded in the summer sun but he loved the tree, affectionately called a pom pom. It was large for a pom pom tree, over six meters. Jesper attributed it to his mother's strength.

"I wish you were here," he said. He tossed the mango back and forth between his hands. "I'm still mad at you for leaving for a girl we don't even know. But I miss you. And Nyota Heri feels like home now. Feels like where I'm supposed to be. And Da is scared of losing me again."

The mango was sweet. Better than any of the fruit in Ketterdam. "I'm worried you wouldn't like me."

He wiped the back of his hand. "I hope you would like me. And Wylan. But I don't think you would like Ketterdam, I think it's poisonous. Kaz was bad for me, and I'm glad at least with the embargo he can't bully me into coming back any more. Hopefully he gets the message. You would love Atiena and Sefu. They're so sure of themselves. 

"I'm not as confused as I was when I first arrived. But I miss you."

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, hoping to hear something. There were stories all over Nyota Heri about people seeing their ancestors appear. Usually in dreams. 

After a few minutes straining for a whisper, he gave up, and finished his mango to the core, using his pocket knife to scrape what his teeth couldn't. 

The heat made him drift in and out, and the world shimmered around him. The colors were saturated, and the air still sweet, even with the jurda fields stripped bare. And over a sloping hill he saw the strangest sight- a gerenuk walking towards him.

Jesper made himself stand up and walk towards the creature. He loved gerenuks - they looked like a cross between Kaelish deer and giraffes. Long elegant necks and spindly legs they stood on to reach high branches of trees. It didn't even look at him as it walked towards his mother's tree.

"Well hello," he said softly as it stood and ate some leaves. "You're awfully far from the savanna."

The gerenuk gently went back down on all fours and turned toward Jesper. He reached a hand out to gently touch it's fur. It was elegant and calm, moving with surprising grace considering how tall and lean it was. 

Jesper had never seen such life in an animal's eyes before. It seemed to be genuinely searching his face.

"Can I help you?" He asked, amused. And aware that he was talking to an animal. "I can get some water if you need it."

It reached forward and licked his cheek. He chuckled and leaned against the tree. The gerenuk nudged his hand with his nose until he started to brush his fingers through it's hair again. Not typical behavior as far as Jesper remembered. 

He felt a swell of Zowa power rise within him when the gerenuk looked at his eyes. It built up under his skin, aching to expand outwards. Then it settled back inside. 

"You're not a gerenuk," Jesper whispered. "Mom?"

It brought it's nose to his, just like when he was young. Hot tears began to stream down his face. "Its you isn't it?" He wanted to say everything. But he said nothing as he began to cry, seeing the way his mom moved in the body, how her own power spoke to his. Atiena said her grandmother had appeared as a leopard. 

He’d waited so long for a definitive sign that his mom was looking out for him, and here she was. He let out a sob and she nudged his head with hers. 

“Why’d you have to go?” Jesper asked. “Why did you leave me and Da? He’s doing his best. He’s great even.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “But we needed you too.”

He couldn’t help but let out a watery laugh as she stuck her tongue out and licked at his tears. Then she nudged his head again until he was standing at his full height. Now that he knew it was his mother, he could feel the love radiating from her eyes as she took in the sight of him. “I just wish you could speak back,” he said. “Do you want to see Da? I can get him.”

She gave a slight shake of her small head. Then she stepped forward, reaching a hoof up towards his pocket and pawing at it. 

“I don’t have any food in there,” he said. “Just my pocket knife.”

She made the motion again, harder so that her hoof hit him.

He pulled the knife out of his pocket and she raised her neck up high. His chest tightened and fresh tears started. “No. No - I’m not doing that. Having a talisman isn’t better than you. Even if you’re -” he motioned at her “A long-necked tree-eater.”  
She let out a soft bleat, and then another more insistent one. Atiena said that it was a blessing. That it meant being reunited with generations of family. Jesper hadn’t believed he was “zemeni enough” to even be considered. Half Kaelish boy, who couldn’t sit still and traveled across the ocean to lose himself, only to come back. 

“I can’t kill you,” he said. “I love you. And there’s so much I can’t figure out. I just want to talk to my mom about it please. About this stupid war, about jurda. About boys.” He brought a hand to his forehead. “I have feelings for two boys and I just want to talk to my mom about it.” He sighed. “It would be so much easier without this Ravkan mess. Or if the Kerch bothered with souls. I want to help my country. And figure myself out. I’m getting closer.”

She bumped her nose into his chest, over his heart. Then there was a sort of buzzing sound. Then she nudged the knife in his hand again. Her eyes pierced right into his soul. She wanted to be a talisman for him. But the knife was heavy in his hand. 

“You would know the right thing to say and do, if you could speak,” Jesper sniffed. Not-Aditi-Aditi cocked her head. “But… if you’re still you. Then this is what you want. And what you think is the right thing. So maybe… it’ll help?” He furrowed his brows. “Maybe it would help me figure it out. Having the ancestors with me. I wish I could have met more of my Zemeni side.” 

She buckled her legs and lay down on the grass, and Jesper sat down next to her. She lay her head on top of his, and he felt the heat and strength radiating from her. “ _Ngiyakuthanda_ ,” he whispered to her. 

Stabbing the heart was surprisingly easy.

She didn’t flinch or react other than going slack against him. Blood, hot and dark, spilled onto his hands and the earth around him. It soaked the roots of her tree, and he forced himself to feel as the life and power spilled out of the gerenuk. Hands slick, he lay the body out so he could make a talisman out of the bones.

Jesper decided on rib bones - the ones around the heart. His work with animals before made him proficient as he dislodged them. The power thrummed through him and he used his _nabaluki_ gift to weave a bracelet that would never leave him again. Fabrikating the bone wasn’t much different than the jurda, than the metal bars at the Fjerdan prison. Tears blurred his eyes but he was adamant, not stopping until it closed around his hand, small enough so it could never be removed without cutting his hand off, and wide enough to move a little.

He couldn’t feel the difference at first - just a buzzing sensation in the back of his skull. But then a wave of power rolled into him and he gasped, falling down to his blood-stained knees.

Before he had to reach out in order to feel the potential for _nabaluki_. Now it was in everything. He felt the potential in the tree beside him, down in the roots. The knife in his hand begging to become something more, something deadly. Something his.

He placed his hands on the earth, digging his fingers into the grass. The dirt began to rumble and then shift, splitting apart to create a hole. A gravesite for Not-Aditi-Aditi the gerenuk. With the talisman on his bracelet and the chest carved open, the animal was simply an animal. But the calming presence of his mother was with him. The reassurance and love was overwhelming, even as he pushed the corpse in and covered it back up.

His mind was calmer than Jesper could ever remember. Everything made sense. His ‘halves’ weren’t at odds with each other. He was completely Zemeni, just as he was completely Kaelish. He was a Zemeni boy who grew up in Nyota Heri, with parents that tended to the land. His connections on the continent went as far back as anyone else. And at the end of the day, it was where he wanted to return. Why had it taken so long to see that?

And he would help protect it. With the strength of his mother, and with his instinct for the parem antidote, he would help save them. It made so much sense - with the use of parem, even if they were outnumbered they could take on all their enemies if they dared come to Zemeni shores. 

He would test it himself.


	20. Parem

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sefu asked Jesper. “You can still say no. We’ll find a volunteer.”

“It might be too much,” Atiena followed up. “With your new talisman as well, that’s a lot of unregulated power.”

“Its going to work,” Jesper insisted. He spent the last few days with his father, just in case. Isolated on the farm, even as the country began to feel the effects of the Kerch embargo. Jesper just regretted that he might die and leave behind a grieving Colm, and without having the chance to say goodbye to Wylan. But Nina had pulled through, and whenever they tried their antidote on other forms of addictions, it seemed to work. But there was no guaranteeing what would happen next. Nina’s powers had transformed from life to death. What would happen to him?

The university had manufactured parem for the occasion. The rising science department had figured it out, combined with the strong agricultural technology tradition in eastern Nyota Heri. It was no longer the domain of the East, and Nyota Heri had a nearly unlimited supply of jurda.

The three of them were out by the empty docks - the section was still closed from the attack, rerouting to others in the harbor. Nearby stood Liyana, Nandi, Fatima, and Lwazi. They were all ready to take him out if need be. A sobering thought.

But his mother was whispering encouragement, telling him everything would work out. Too long he had doubted himself. That was why he was 18 and being put on an “allowance” in Ketterdam. That was why he didn’t feel Zemeni or Kaelish for too long. It was why he never felt good enough for the people around him. But he was. After all, he was worthy enough to wear a talisman and the strength of generations.

“I want to do it,” he said. “I’m going to be fine.”

The Kaboyongas exchanged looks with each other but Sefu pulled out the powder in a small glass tube. It looked so innocuous - no different from the powdered spices they put on food. 

“May the ancestors guide you,” Sefu said, before pulling Jesper into a tight hug. The kind of hug that was strong and protective, like he didn’t want to let go. And Jesper didn’t want him to either. But then it was over, and Atiena hugged him too.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “For everything.”

She held the supposed antidote in her own hand. She was supposed to administer it to him in an hour by any means necessary. 

“Down the hatch,” Jesper muttered. Flashes of Nina at the Ice Court went through his mind. But she had survived, with the help of her friends. And he would too. He took it like the drugs of Ketterdam, snorting the powder through his nose. 

Unlike the talisman, the drug hit him right away.

The world flared around him, reaching up through his fingers and into the very core of his being. It wasn’t calming or clarifying. It was reckless and threatened to take over everything about him. 

With a flick of his finger, he separated a board from the dock. It was as easy as thinking. Even surrounded by water. It expanded past flowers and trees and chemicals now - he could feel how everything worked together. How there was iron in the body. The structure that held together structures of the docks, of ships. He knew immediately which part he could grab to make it all collapse and a small voice urged him. 

_Take it down,_ the voice whispered. 

_Hold on to yourself son,_ another voice whispered.

The power was so great. Too great. He took boards from the dock and made them join together so he could walk further out into the sea. There was something for him. Something dark down there he wanted to grasp at. Someone was calling his name but it was irrelevant, especially when he stripped the boards closest to shore so he could walk closer. 

His heart beat fast, adrenaline pumping through every fiber of his being. Fibers he could feel. Even without the support beams underneath he could walk with complete confidence. Why wouldn’t he, when he could stabilize the boards as easy as breathing? Fatima tried to use her own zowa power to bring him back closer but that was an annoyance - he used the bangles on her wrist to drag her backwards. 

“JESPER!” He heard Sefu screaming faintly. “Where are you going?”

The water beneath was pitch black now that he was further away from his friends and the lights nearby. He couldn’t see anything, but he didn’t need to. He felt around for it, finding his zowa grip. It strained against him but there was no use fighting - not with the parem. Making a fist, he pulled upwards.

Nothing moved for a moment - then, a ripple in the water. And when it breached the surface, he saw what had driven him off shore. 

Massive, sleek, and oval-shaped. The only reason he knew it was a boat was because of the rudders he saw underneath. It was the same size as a regular ship but completely different in all other ways. He looked at it curiously as it floated on the surface, and then molded foot holds for himself to climb up top, and propelled the ship to the shore. 

He was pleased with himself as he jumped from the top onto the solid ground. 

“An invisible ship,” Atiena whispered. 

Sefu wasn’t staring at the ship, but at Jesper. “How did you know it was there? You just pulled a ship out of the water.” He looked stunned. “A ship. No one has ever done that.”

“Then call me no one,” Jesper said. He raised his hand and with a decisive motion, fractured the ship clean in half. There were screams from the inside but they were just being dramatic - it wasn’t like he hurt any of them. Even if they deserved it.

There were two ‘walls’ to the ship, but Jesper wasn’t even sure they could call it a ship. They both were cleanly split open. 

A gunshot rang out but Jesper easily stopped it. After all, it was just a piece of metal hurling through the air. A few more gunshots, and more stopped bullets. “What are you doing? That’s no fun at all,” he said. “My friends and I all have beautiful faces, you’d do well enough to let them be.” He peered into the crevice, where he saw some pale faces holding guns. “Well come on out! Say hi.”

Just to punctuate the point, he felt for the guns in their hands and crushed the barrels. Everything was so _easy_ , not the struggle to use his powers like when he first moved back home. This was what he was supposed to be. No one thought he was smart or talented before the parem, but now they would respect him. By the sheer strength as a _nabaluki_.

Then, his mother’s voice again. _Don’t give in._

The crew gingerly stepped out, hands up. Jesper looked at them curiously, feeling the ties in their hair, any jewelry they had. The smallest pieces of earth and metal inside or on them that could be ripped out and turned into weapons. Not even taking into account the giant piece of steel and titanium behind him that could easily become their graveyard and sunk to the bottom of the sea.

“Who are you?!” Atiena ordered, a revolver in each hand. 

In shaky Zemeni, one of them replied. “Please. We were just following orders.”

“And breaking international treaty agreements.” Atiena kept her revolvers up. “This is an act of unauthorized surveillance by a foreign national. Where are you from?”

“Belendt.”

The industrial capital of Kerch. Of course. “Are you working for the Merchant Council or an outlier?” Jesper asked. One of them was wearing glasses. _If I blink, they will shatter and blind them,_ he thought passively. He itched to use his zowa powers, itching under his skin. “Who’s really calling the shots?”

When the leader refused to answer, Jesper tore a section of the hull off and wrapped it around their feet so they couldn’t move, weighted down by a ton of steel. He screamed and Jesper smiled in amusement. 

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk.” 

“What’s your name?” Jesper asked. They spoke Kerch so Jesper could make sure nothing was misunderstood. “And rank?”

“Markus. Please don’t hurt me. Commandeur for the Kerch navy.”

Jesper relayed the information. “If he’s a commodore, that means he has more ships.” He turned back towards Markus. “What are these atrocities called?”

“They’re from Ravka. The _izmars’ya_.”

Atiena gasped. “The plans that the Kerch bought. How did they build them so fast?”

The commodore heard them. “Grisha power. As many as we could find.” Realization dawned on him. “This is a grisha on parem.” He began to struggle against the metal at his feet, and turned to yell at the other Zemenis. “What are you all standing here for?! He will kill us all.”

Jesper scoffed. “I’m not going to kill them. Maybe you if you don’t give us some good information.” He felt his power being tugged in another direction and out of curiosity, decided to follow the lead. He had moved dirt and flowers before. But now he reached for the earth itself, large clumps and rocks of it. He delighted in how the ground shook around him. “Well this is fun,” he said. 

“Jesper, stop,” Atiena said. 

“Why?” he asked. “They probably bombed our harbor. They’re greedy treaty breakers.”

“We aren’t them,” Sefu stepped in. He reached towards Jesper with a careful hand. “Come on. It's alright. Lets give you the antidote and make sure you’re okay.”

“Why would I want that?” Jesper said. He had never felt more alive. It was a better high than playing the slots, than shooting a gun. “Its night time anyway. And they were never supposed to be there. No one will notice if they go missing.”

“That’s not who we are,” Sefu said. He clasped his hand around Jesper’s, holding it up so he could see the bracelet of gerenuk bone. Which seemed so paltry in comparison to the parem in him. 

“Why should we play nice?”

“Its not playing nice. We can’t get information if they’re dead.”

“They killed people!”

“We don’t know that!”

Markus began to sob besides them, the others cowering in fear as the earth trembled violently. Jesper couldn’t contain his rage, his frustration. Here was a chance to do something. The outside hull of the ship peeled away, transforming into something new. If he couldn’t punish them, he would make damn sure that thing couldn’t float again. The grisha steel turned into glass. Pure, clear, breakable glass. And with a final shake and squeeze of his fingers, it shattered.

There was a commotion behind him. “NOW!” someone shouted.

It was as if a claw grabbed his heart and he gasped. Atiena was behind him, fighting against him with all her might. She forced him down on his knees and the moment he broke from her, Lwazi stepped in. Even as an _umphulukisi_ , he put up a good fight until Atiena rejoined him. Jesper felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, even as he repaired himself. Nandi added pressure, three of them attacking Jesper internally. They tried to slow his heart rate down but the parem kept it pumping, along with sheer will.

Fatima splashed salty water in his face, keeping him from seeing clearly. But that didn’t stop Jesper, now filled with rage. He changed the composition of the water to ice, and it fell harmlessly to the ground before she could splash him again, and he dragged another piece of metal out to shield him from more. It was just Sefu next to him, the others behind the piece of hull that remained.

“Jesper don’t do this,” he said. “It's the parem talking, not you.”

“It just opened me up,” he said. 

“There are so many more things you could give in to.” Sefu stepped closer, and despite his suspicion, Jesper didn’t stop him. Not when they were so close that their hands touched, and when Sefu pulled him into a deep kiss. 

It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It cut straight to the center of him, all the pent up longing, of watching Sefu from afar. He tasted like mango and coconut, and smelled like home. It was like drowning in a current he didn’t want to leave, and Jesper realized how much he had wanted that, and the security of his arms. His fingers wrapped in Sefu’s long locs, pulling him as close as physically possible. Jesper would have been fine staying there forever.

Until there was a prick.

Atiena stood by him with a now-empty needle, and he glanced at Sefu. He mouthed “I’m sorry” before Jesper closed his eyes, passing out onto the ground.

* * * * *

He woke up in his own bed, feeling like nothing.

The echo of parem was there, but he seemed to feel alright. The memory of the power inside him was fresh. And how he had behaved to the others.

Groaning, Jesper turned onto his side where he saw Colm sitting and watching him. “I’m gettin’ a little tired of wondering if you’re okay,” his father said. There was a sharp edge to his voice.

“Da I’m sorry, I can explain -”

Colm held his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m glad you’re okay. But your recklessness is going to send me to the grave.” He handed Jesper some water, helping him sit up. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible. But fine.” He didn’t have the desperation he had seen in Nina on the ship back from Fjerda. “I’m not craving it. The power was nice but I turned into someone different. I need to apologize to everyone.”

“They’re right outside, so take your time. They didn’t want to abandon you.” Colm sighed. “I may hate what you’re getting mixed up in, but these friends you made. They’re good ones at least.”

Jesper gingerly swung his legs over the bed. His hands were rough, and when he looked in the mirror, saw that his normal deep brown color had turned sallow. He had a grayish pallor that he hoped would go away, and his eyes looked paler.

“Saints,” he said, touching his cheek. The parem had done a number on his body.

In the sitting room he saw Atiena, Sefu, and Nandi. Sefu stood up the moment he saw Jesper and rushed over to him. “Jes, are you okay?” 

He remembered their kiss. How wholly he had fallen into his desire despite Wylan, how it had been used against him. Even if Jesper knew it really _was_ for the greater good, he couldn’t stand his foolish heart ruining it for him. That he was so easily duped again, just like in Ketterdam. 

“I’m fine. I feel normal.” He tried to manipulate the steel on the table, and it responded in a normal fashion. No crazy element-changing. The thought of making it into all-glass or gold now seemed ridiculous. 

“Do you feel like murdering us for more parem?” Nandi asked dryly. 

“No. I just feel bad about what I did.”

“I wish you hadn’t destroyed evidence of the underwater ship, but it's enough to know that Kerch is spying on us and coming into our harbor. We don’t know what the weapons on board are like, and we probably won’t be able to have a zowa raise one out of the water for awhile.” Atiena gave a wry smile. “Which was pretty impressive.”

“He raised a ship out of the water?” Colm asked.

“He also used pieces of wood to walk on water, completely severed grisha steel in half, turned it into glass, and then took on five other zowa at the same time while causing the earth to move.”

“But I look terrible, so is it worth it?” Jesper joked.

They sat in companionable silence, Jesper trying to eat some of the scones laid out. It seemed all his father did was cook, bake, and tend to the fields. The food tasted like ash in his mouth. But underneath, he was elated. _I tasted the power of parem and I lived._ He wouldn’t know the repercussions for weeks. Maybe even months or years. 

"Now that we know the compound made from roots and stems work, we can combine it with the current parem and find a happy medium where zowa won't go mad with power," Sefu said. Jesper looked at him, and was startled by the intensity in his face. Jesper looked down, unable to meet his eyes. 

"We can't afford to test on many zowa so we have to get it right the first time. We can't experiment like the Fjerdans and Shu."

Jesper agreed with Sefu, remembering how small Kuwei had seemed in that lab alone. It tore his family apart, and now they may have a cure. Hopefully they would meet again someday so Jesper could tell him personally. 

They Kaboyongas decided they would stick around to make sure Jes was okay, and Colm was more than happy to accommodate them.

Jesper toyed with his bracelet, a living connection to his mother. 

"I hope you would be happy with me."

He flipped a gold coin from Ketterdam in the air. One of the few things he kept other than Wylan. 

When he tossed it, he decided to slow the gold down. He was pleased to see he still could. He didn't lose his original _nabaluki_ gift.

He flipped the coin between his fingers as he lay in bed, feeling a little better. Jes pressed it to his lips, thinking of jurda and his mother. And the cold light of the moon outside. He felt the coin shift under his fingertips, and he opened his eyes.

In his hand, the coin had shifted from gold to silver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading along. This is the end of Part 1. Part 2 will resume at the end of July. Let me know your thoughts, questions, or what you hope to see below. <3


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